Brave Boy
by peachpaige
Summary: Thirteen years after the Battle of Badon Hill, what has become of Lucan?
1. Prologue

**Brave Boy**

A/N: This idea I have seen once before, and it was never finished, so I'm taking it upon myself to try and write this out.

Summary: 13 years after Badon Hill, what has become of Lucan?

**Prologue**

It is strange what one recollects. We do not remember meeting our parents, we do not remembering the moment we know who they are; we only _know_. I am an exception, as are many others orphaned. I do not remember my parents, or my siblings, if I had any. I can remember blue eyes and dark hair, but images do not paint the picture of a face I will never see.

I am not bitter, or sad. This is simply the way things are. When I was taken from my village at six… and placed in that horrible place, I hardly knew my mother. The rationalization that this is a good thing is that, had I been a bit older, it could have been much more difficult. I remember feeling the loss of her, knowing I was in a different place, but I don't remember knowing why I cried.

And then I was saved.

I did not stay six summers old. I grew, became a man. First, however, I was a boy without a father. When I found one – not that I am under the delusion that had he stayed alive he would have adopted me as a son – he was killed.

And I was left alone, as so many are, to care for myself.


	2. The Boy

**Brave Boy**

**Chapter One**

A boy, close enough in age to be a man, stepped out from the darkness of the stable into the harsh sunlight. He winced and stepped back, shielding his face from the blinding, scorching light that hit him without warning.

The summer days had made the muggy air unbearable, and the young man could see no one mulling about in the streets, a sign that his labor would be much harder the following few hours. The young man's next destination was a short distance across the cracked dirt of the streets, but to accomplish getting there, he had to leave the coolness of the stable.

It was here in the doorway that he paused, leaning against a post and chewing on his bottom lip. He pondered leaving his chores unfinished before that silly thought left him quickly. Never had he skived off work before, and he wasn't about to start now. He stood straight, as if making it known to anyone who could have read his thoughts that he was not the one to be lazy, even on such a day.

He pushed the light brown hair from his face, and for the billionth time viciously thought about hacking it off. It was far too much trouble. But, there was no time to do it now, and as he stepped back into the horrid day, he quickly made his way to the next building, more like a storage shed.

Looking up at the walls, he picked a new rake and several bags of oats. He held his prizes in his hands steadily, making sure they wouldn't fall, before heading back to the stables.

As he passed the street, the door to another building open, and out stumbled a rather ruff looking man of about thirty summers, bottle in hand. Lucan looked up at the sky and then shook his head: not even past three and already the drunks were about. He made a move to continue onto the stables when the man spotted him.

"You there!" His gruff voice called.

The boy stopped and turned, ready to be out of the heat, but obliging. He said nothing, just raised an eyebrow

The drunken man made his way over to him and patted him roughly on the back.

"Five silver if you'll do me some work. My rooms, they need cleaning."

Hesitation crossed his mind, and he wondered if cleaning up a pit of a room was worth the five silvers. But here, everything was worth doing if it involved money. He nodded curtly and held his hand out for the pay.

The man chuckled and reached into his pocket, pulling out three silver and slapping in the boys hand. "Some now, more later – when you've finished."

The boy pocketed the coins, nodding. He watched as the man made his way off down the dry, dirty street, watching until he disappeared. The man, a former knight named Galahad, hadn't recognized the squire. They had both changed. Galahad had become gruff in his aging state, never having taken a wife. He lived comfortably on the fact he had once done the city a great dead, but squandered all given to him.

It was not a surprise that Galahad had not recognized the boy. All had changed about him: He was tall, broad shouldered, bronzed from the sun. The mop of hair he had once had still remained, yes, but all traces of boyhood, save for the lack of a tangible beard, had left him last summer. He was no longer a toddler, but approaching manhood quickly.

It was not a strange occurrence that no one recognized him (even those who had once saved him). Here, people lived their lives, not acknowledging those people whose lives ended.

So when the knight so named Dagonet died, no one could take the time to remember the young boy he had saved.

And surprisingly, the knights never even noticed the massive ring hanging about the young man's neck.


	3. Work

**Brave Boy**

**Chapter Two**

Lucan appeared from the stuffy rooms of Galahad after many hours, breathing in the hot, yet fresh air. He looked up at the sun, still high in the sky, and knew hadn't much time until he had to make his way to the tavern. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he made his way to the stables, continuing his work, although slowly.

He worked hard to finish quickly, the want of the cool, dark air of the tavern pushing him forward. When the stalls were mucked, the horses bedded down, and everything put back in its proper place, he made his way down the narrow streets to his next job.

Managing to retain some energy, Lucan ran around to the back and pushed open the door, not bothering to yell to Vanora that he had arrived. The lady, while not old, definitely had aged since he had first met her. But while her hair had faded, and her skin had wrinkled slightly, she still remained feisty and fiery, acquiring the tavern once the old owner had passed on many summers ago. She could hear the door slam shut behind the boy as he meandered into the dark room.

"Lucan! Good, good, you're early. Quick, the dishes from the late lunch need cleared, and the floors need a good mopping before the night crowd begins to file in."

Lucan, without saying a word, nodded and moved to the main hall, grabbing a bucket from the sink as he went.

Vanora watched as he left, sighing. She had known him since he was small, and when he was old enough for a job, had given him one when he politely asked. However, other than the occasional greeting, which he rarely voiced and frequently signaled, he never spoke to anyone, not even Vanora.

It used to worry her not, as he always did his work, arrived on time, which was a miracle within itself, and with now 14 children of her own, she did not need the extra voice swimming around her ears. However, now that he was a man, it seemed rather peculiar. He could speak, she knew that much, so it was not a matter of not knowing how, so just what was his problem?

She had no time to ponder this, as the door to the back opened once again.

"Ah! Ariana, hurry in here girl, your just on time to help Lucan scrub!"

When she heard no footsteps, Vanora turned to see who had opened the door. Her eyes widened as her eyes gazed over the person that now seemed a bad omen. Indeed, it was Ariana, but Ariana was not whole. In fact, she had a long split up the side of her leg, holding it into a straight position. The girl hobbled in a way, flinching.

"Vanora…I am sorreh…"

The girl's thick accent filled the doorway and the woman watching closed her eyes as if in denial.

"No…No…You can't be telling me this. I need you tonight, where am I going to get someone else to fill in. Lucan can't do it by himself!"

"I know, that's why I've go' yeh me cousin!" She said quickly, turning her back out the door and waving her hand. "Catherine!

The pitter patter of footsteps, presumably of Catherine, came toward the door. Vanora awaited the sight of the cousin that would be replacing the talented Ariana, who moved aside to allow her entrance.

She could hardly be called a woman, her curves hardly developed, the baby fat of younger years not yet turning into the muscle and meat needed for bearing children. But the girl was fairly old, as could be seen. Sixteen or so summers gave her a stuck-in-between look of one who had not yet fully discovered what it was to be a woman in these times. She did not look naïve, hardly, but her demeanor insisted on certain sweetness, perhaps mistaken for weakness.

Long dark locks framed a heart-shaped face and a dainty nose sprinkled with freckles. Her chin, like one of a stubborn mouse, was hardly noticeable compared to her dusty blue eyes, clouded by gray. It took Vanora a moment to decide whether the girl was blind or not and realized once the girl set her eyes on the woman, that she was most definitely not. She met Vanora's gaze with tenacity, and yet had an air of impotence about her, signaling this small sign of power hid the knowledge she had not control. She looked sweet, hard working, and obedient.

However, she also looked innocent, virginal, and plain, two qualities not good for business.

Vanora looked over at Ariana, and her gaze asked the question 'What the hell are you thinking?', but Vanora was far too polite to say this in front of the kind girl in front of her and simply looked at Catherine with stern eyes.

"Girl, come here," Catherine stepped forward at this command. "Can you work? I'll not be having laziness in this tavern. If you are to take over for your cousin, you must be willing to get straight to hard work without much time for preparation, understand? Well, do you?"

Catherine looked up and nodded, "Yes ma'am." She said quickly. "I'll be willing to do whatever it takes, I swear. I'm a hard worker, not that me mum ever agreed. But I swear to you-"

"Fine, you'll do." Vanora said quickly, cutting her off and snorting. Heh, a talker, well, that would quickly be stripped from her once the men started to talk back. Though, perhaps her incessant talk would scare them away.

Looking back at Ariana, Vanora nodded, "Alright, get better. I need you back soon."

Ariana nodded and took her leave, smiling at her cousin reassuringly before she did.

Vanora sighed and pushed her face into her palm, taking a deep breath before getting back to normal. She suddenly sat up straight and looked out into the dining hall.

"Lucan!" She yelled.

Turning back to Catherine she looked the girl over once more. The girl barely noticed, glancing around the room, taking in her surroundings. When she noticed Vanora looking she sat up straight, and when a boy entered the room she sat up even straighter.

"Catherine, this is Lucan. Lucan, Catherine. Catherine is replacing Ariana while she's injured. Catherine, Lucan is our resident handy-man, cleaner, cook, server. You name it, he's it. He can fix my old chairs while cooking a lank of lamb. He'll show you around tonight."

Lucan's eyes flickered up to Vanora, as if inquiring is she was crazy. He did not need a novice girl following him around like a puppy all night, and his opinion was known from the roll of his eyes.

"Ah, quit it, it's one night, deal." She chastised.

Lucan nodded and looked over at the girl, waving her forward into the hall.

He pointed simply to each part of the tavern, explaining each thing as he went.

"Well outside for water. Cups, plates, utensils. Food put there. Mop, bucket, rags." He said simply before continuing with his previous mopping job, finishing quickly.

He looked back to see where the girl was standing, taking everything in. He simply sighed and went to her, handing her a rag and a bucket and leaving her to it.

Catherine watched him go, her eyes widening. Who was this boy? Who said clipped words to her and left her without any real conversation or introduction. She looked about the room and swallowed at the many tables she was, she guessed, supposed to clean. Swallowing hard, she looked back at where Lucan was cleaning out a large pile of rags, and folding them neatly in their place.

"I…you know. I'd much rather fold, I can fold rather well." She said.

Lucan glanced up at her and gave her a frown before looking to the tables. When he saw nothing had been done he sighed. "No, you can wash the tables."

These words, not clipped, cut off, or grunted, were surprisingly pleasing to the ear. Catherine quickly felt a smile spread on her face, before seeing Lucan was completely serious, and what he said was not pleasing at all.

"Just wash them," he said, "You'll have to do it some time during the next weeks, so you best get used to it now."

And with that, he turned back to what he was doing. With lightening speed, or so it seemed to Catherine, he had folded all the rags in the large pile, while she had only cleaned one long table. Hardly a good sign of things to come.


	4. Tavern

**Brave Boy**

**Chapter 3**

Catherine had been most definitely right about what came next, it was not good at all. After breaking her back by leaning over several long tables to wash them, she had been ushered into the back of the tavern to start washing dishes.

When she finished, Vanora found her and ordered her to shadow Lucan, who looked none to pleased to have her follow him around.

"Only for the first bit, then she'll know enough, now get!" She snipped.

Lucan nodded and sighed as he moved into the large room, where there were already several groups settled around the long tables. Catherine's face fell when she saw there were already beer splotches covering them. One fellow propped his feet up on a newly cleaned table and Catherine's eyes went dangerously dark.

Lucan pushed her gently and she looked up, snapping out of her reverie. He surveyed her curiously for a moment then followed to where her gaze had been settling and rolled his eyes, pulling her arm along with him to take orders.

"Mead!" "Stew!" "Steak!" "Potatoes!" "Mead!" "Bread!" "Stew!" "Bread!" "Mead!"

Lucan said nothing, and though they had only stood in the main hall for a moment, he disappeared into the back after only seconds, grabbing two trays. Catherine followed quickly and was startled when he plopped a tray into her hands, filling it quickly with the orders he had heard. How he kept them all straight, she never knew.

As the night when on everything became a blur of alcohol, meat, and men. A few women dared to venture into the tavern, mostly prostitutes in search of clients. Catherine, who had never seen such a thing, was startled the first time she saw a transaction occur and looked up at Lucan, who had not even noticed.

More than once, Catherine spilled beer over patrons, forgot orders, and tripped over her own feet, leaving the young man aiding her to pick up the pace. Annoyed, Lucan never got angry. In fact, he seemed to look even less annoyed as the night went on, finding it easy to just do his job then dwell over spilt milk…or stew.

When it was done, over two hundred customers had swarmed the tavern, and when it was done, it was as if every single one of them had brawled.

Lucan surveyed the damage and sighed, it could have been much worse. He glanced over at the new girl and raised an eyebrow. She looked asleep on her feet, leaning against a wall. When he started over he looked closer and stopped dead, rolling his eyes once more, a common gesture for him. She _was _asleep on her feet.

Lucan, who never had to deal with sleeping females, prodded her lightly, as if touching a sleeping bear. He looked around for Vanora, and when she was no where to be seen he looked back at the slop-covered girl. Her apron was unrecognizable as a piece of clothing and he wrinkled his nose in distaste.

Well…she could not stay here.

He swallowed hard before moving to the side of her and picking her up in his arms. He struggled for a moment with the weight of her, but quickly regained balance and hauled her to the back of the tavern, all the while thinking that he would rather haul a bag of potatoes, at least they did not snore.

Lucan looked around for Vanora once more and saw her slaving over the stove, cleaning it thoroughly. He cleared his throat and she looked up, her eyes flickering from him to what he had in his arms. She raised and eyebrow and walked over, wiping the mess from her hands on her apron.

"Fell asleep, eh? You did too, your first night."

At this Lucan glares, hating the fact he could be as weak as this girl.

"Mind, you were only 10…Well, I guess you'll have to take her home." Vanora said, a smile creeping onto her face.

Lucan shook his head and lifted the girl to Vanora who put up her hands in defiance.

"Oh, no. I'm not about to take her. She lives with Ariana, I suppose. If not, you can leave her there. Next to the butchers, you know." Vanora shooed him out the door with her hands.

Lucan glared back at Vanora, who smiled sweetly.

"You can clean up tomorrow, the mess will still be there."

Sighing, he turned to the dark night. The temperature was pleasant enough, though the remnants of the hot day could still be felt in the muggy air. He looked down at the sleeping girl, who had not moved an inch. Grumbling, he began to walk down the street toward the butcher.

Looking at Ariana's house, he struggled to find a way to knock on the door. He settled on banging his shoe against it.

When the woman hobbled to the door and managed to open it, she was surprised by the sight.

"Ah, Lucan, is jus' you. Bring 'er in. Her bed is there."

Lucan looked to the bed and nodded, setting the girl down with a strange gentleness. He turned, nodded his head to Ariana and made his way out and back to the tavern, leaving the woman to tend to her cousin.

In the morning, Lucan rose bright and early, walking to the stables, finishing his chores there before beginning to head to the tavern. As he passed by Galahad's quarters he sighed, and shook his head. He knew he should knock, get the rest of his pay, but could not bring himself to see the knight again. He hated interacting with the Sarmations, something that had developed in the last few years. So, he simply walked by and made his way to the tavern well past lunch.

Upon entering, the smells left over from last night filled his senses and he stifled a gag. Breathing through his mouth he made his way over to the buckets Vanora always hauled in bright and early in the morning. He took one and the mop and began work in solitude, Vanora most likely out to market. The scent of the baking bread in the oven made his stomach rumble, but he ignored it to finish work.

Once the water was a grungy black color, he started with another, cleaning the tables until they were spotless. Looking outside at the sun, he saw it was approaching dinner. His stomach growled, but mostly he wondered if the girl would be coming again. He could have used her this afternoon to help him clean, but shrugged it off.

Walking inside, he picked up the two heavy buckets and tossed them outside, eliciting a small scream from the ground –

Except dirt did not have a voice. He looked up and was surprised to see Catherine standing in front of the tavern…covered in murky water.

If looks could kill, then Lucan would have been tortured, cut in half, and then brought back to life to repeat it several times.

He swallowed hard and stood up straight, his face unreadable and cool, as if unbothered. Catherine wiped the water from her face and pushed back her wet hair. She took a step forward toward Lucan, her hand raising, one slender finger pointing at his chest.

"Just what do you think you are doing!? You don't just slop water anywhere you like! Look at me I'm soaking."

Lucan looked the girl over, trying not to smile. It was the first time he had caused something funny in quite a while.

Catherine, as if anticipating him smile glared harder. "Don't you dare laugh at me!" She screeched, reminding Lucan of the scraping of metal on metal.

"You…I..." Catherine struggled to think of words, and the more Lucan stayed silent he angrier she got. "You know, this would be a lot easier if you would say something!"

At that, Lucan did smile and took a step back from the girl, grabbing his buckets and moving back into the tavern, back to Catherine.

Her eyes widened in surprise and stormed after him.

"Don't you walk away from me!"

Lucan shook his head and made his way into the back, setting the buckets down and turning to look at her. Seeing she had not followed him into the back he frowned and backtracked. He found her staring at the gleaming tables, her mouth resembling a fish as it opened and closed.

"I…you…when…I…"

Lucan raised an eyebrow. At least when he did speak it was in complete sentences. Crossing his hands over his chest, he watched as she regained her composure.

"You cleaned."

Lucan nodded simply. He also did not state the obvious when he spoke.

"You…You shouldn't have!"

Lucan jumped and looked at the crazy girl standing in front of him.

"I could have done it myself! I mean…it would have gotten done eventually. I only woke up a few hours ago, sore and – But I could have done it!"

"Before or after you passed out?"

Shocked to hear him speak, Catherine sputtered over her words.

"As long as it gets done, Vanora cares not." He said once more, wondering if it would bring her out of the catatonic state she was in.

Lucan, Catherine noticed, had a much deeper voice than she had first thought. She blinked and shook her head to clear her thoughts, looking down. She was dripping all over and sighed.

"Fine, but where am I going to get new clothes!?" She growled.

"Vanora." Lucan said simply and walked away from her.


	5. Speak

**Brave Boy**

**Chapter 4**

Catherine did not know how she survived the first week of work. Her arms ached, her lungs burned from the smoke, and she could not even feel her legs any more, let alone her feet. But she stumbled through by following Lucan, and picked up on the skills she needed as quickly as she could. This, if Lucan had to admit, was not as slow of a pace as he thought it would be.

She even received praise from Vanora, which was an amazing accomplishment one's first week. Though after the compliment, she promptly dropped an entire tray full of stew.

Lucan, for his part, had not said anything to Catherine for three days. Well, he might have grunted or spoken a one-worded order but other than that, no one, not even Vanora had heard his voice.

Catherine was under no denial about what had caused it. Two nights ago, she had been serving along side Lucan, who looked even more tightly lipped than usual around the customers. When three burly men walk in, she felt Lucan tense beside her as they worked on serving at a rather large table full of patrons.

She glanced up and followed his eyes, watching the three men take a seat at a table in the corner that looked reserved for them. Three other seats surrounded it, but Catherine had never seen anyone sit there.

"Lucan – "

"You." He said simply and walked away.

"But Lucan, I have five other tables!" She called.

Lucan looked back and sighed, picking up a tray and walking over to the men with three tankards and a pitcher of ale, setting it down before turning to leave.

One, however, the youngest, grabbed his wrist and brought him back. Lucan threw him off quickly and then man raised his eyebrows.

Bors, one of the men who Catherine knew, laughed and shook his head.

"Easy, lad. Galahad only meant to talk to yeh."

Lucan crossed his arms over his chest, looking from Bors to Galahad. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. The man simply smiled and reached into his pack and pulling out two coins and placing them on the table.

"For your work." He said simply, looking at Lucan curiously. His eyes slipped from the boy's face, which looked familiar, to his neck…where he caught sight of the ring hanging about it.

Lucan, following Galahad's eyes, looked down at his ring. Galahad turned to his two companions and motioned towards him. Bors raised an eyebrow.

"What of it, Galahad? It's a ring."

"It's not his. He stole it, I know it!" Galahad whispered fiercely.

Lucan, who was accustomed to quiet and to listening, furrowed his eyebrows and stepped forward.

"I did not." He said evenly, putting his hand over the ring on his chest.

Galahad stood and, sensing a fight, Vanora stepped out from the back, walking over to Bors.

"I know for a fact who that ring belongs to, and he's been buried and dead for a long time."

"You're right." Lucan said once more and without waiting for another comment, turned and walked away. He did not repeat his early sentiments of innocence. He had learned if one had to repeat their words, they would not be taken however many times one repeated them.

Galahad growled and made a move to follow after him, but was stopped by Gawain, who shook his head in warning.

Vanora sighed, "Galahad, you idiot. That is Lucan. _Lucan_, the boy – "

"The boy Dagonet saved." Bors finished.

A look of realization hit Galahad and he sat down with a heavy sigh.

Lucan stormed into the back room, tipping over a chair as he went, fuming. Catherine, who had never seen the boy angry, was taken aback and simply stood with a pitcher in her hands for a few moments before being yelled at by Vanora to continue work. She clumsily poured her patron his ale before retreating into the back. She looked around and saw the back door standing ajar.

She sighed and hesitated in the middle of the room, biting the side of her mouth. They were not friends…Truth be told, they were not even really co-workers. She would be gone as soon as Ariana was well, and no one knew when that would be.

However, Catherine was a busy body. It was a fault that she was not proud of. She talked incessantly, and had to help anyone in need. Even if she sometimes just wanted to _know_ what was wrong with a person rather than righting it.

So, she stopped hesitating and walked out the door to find Lucan hardly two steps out. She squeaked in surprised and almost fell. She caught herself, and saw that Lucan hadn't moved at all. Glaring at him, Catherine straightened herself and waited expectantly for him to do something. When she came back to her senses and remembered this was Lucan that she was about to speak to, she stepped forward to him.

"So…" She started weakly. "That was interesting. You know, I thought there was going to be a fight. But, I had your back. I was all ready to – "

"Run and hide?" He asked in a low voice.

Catherine looked horrified but quickly regained her composure and laughed. "Ha, I would never run. Danger is in my blood, I can handle anything."

Lucan did not move or speak, and Catherine wondered if he was even breathing.

"So…" She said again. "What was that all about? I mean, you don't have to tell me. I just thought you would want to talk about it."

"I don't."

Catherine raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Oh, well…Okay. I mean, I know if it was _me_ I would want to talk. It's good, you know, to get those things in the open."

"You're not me, we're not friends." And then…he walked away.

Now, two days later, Catherine was going insane. Okay, so he never talked to her too much anyway, but still this was beginning to get ridiculous. Earlier in the week, she knew Lucan was a quiet person and that was all fine and dandy. Then at least she knew he was quiet because that was just his disposition. Now, though, she knew it was because something was wrong and it made her nettled.

When she spoke to Vanora, the woman simply shrugged and went back to work.

"Everyone deals with things in their own way, Cath – " Catherine cringed at the nickname, "– and Lucan is a quiet soul."

Catherine refused to admit that he could not talk out his feelings and expressed this to Vanora who simply laughed.

"Why so interested Cath?"

The girl glared at Vanora.

"I'm not. I just simply thought it'd make the work easier."

Vanora simply smiled and nodded, going back to dishes.

This silence as always made Catherine's temper flare and she stormed back to her work, cleaning the tables as if sanding them down. When she heard the heavy footsteps that signaled Lucan's entrance she looked up to see him walking through the front door. She opened her mouth to speak, but he passed by quickly before she could think of anything of substance to spout off.

The rest of the night went this way. Catherine would seek out Lucan, who would ignore her, making the words evade her mind. Giving up well past midnight she simply did her work in silence, pouring, serving, and talking little, just as Lucan did.

Lucan watched Catherine each time she approached and furrowed his eyebrows. Why could she not leave well enough alone? Was it not enough that he had to pick up her mess, but now she wanted to converse as if they were friends? Well, he was not one for friends…or conversing. This was a time for work, not socializing, so he ignored her each time she approached.

He was fine, he convinced himself of this. His encounter a few nights ago did nothing to him, was nothing to him. It was just a misunderstanding. He would never speak to those men again, except perhaps Bors, who was a constant fixture at his tavern. The tavern perhaps could not be called his, as Vanora ran the thing.

But his hand clutched more frequently at the ring about his neck, and when he caught himself he quickly busied his hands doing something productive.

It would not do to dwell on something he had long since put in the back of his mind. It, as the knights had said, was dead and buried. There was nothing to be done, and so he would move on as he always did when something upset, or disappointed him.

He kept his thoughts to himself each time Catherine approached, and finally she had taken the hint and left him alone. He looked up when he had not felt her presence for some time. Lucan searched the tavern to make sure she was doing her work.

He saw her conversing uneasily with some men and he sighed, about to make his way over to tell her to get busy. He hesitated, watching as Catherine smiled when a man wrapped his arm around her waist.

Lucan stopped and took a step back to watch this unfold. Perhaps he would not intervene. If she was in trouble she would have to learn how to escape it herself. If she was simply flirting, then he would leave her to it, it would be better business for the tavern.

He looked up a few moments later to see Catherine struggling with the men. Lucan simply rolled his eyes. He knew this was going to happen sooner or later. Someone would come on too strongly and she would become offended and ruin the customer's night or their business with the tavern. He began to walk over and his eyes widened when he saw the man draw back his hand in preparation for a slap.

Lucan's temper flared and he quickly made his way over, but not before the hand could land on Catherine's cheek. He was surprised when instead of her cowering like a meek and abiding girl, she growled and slapped the man back as hard as she could. The crack made its way through the tavern like a whip. Lucan, eyebrows raised, made his way over and took Catherine, leading her a few steps away before standing in front of the man.

"Leave."

This simple, deep word hit the man just as hard as the slap that bloody woman had given him and he growled before standing and fleeing out the front door.

Sighing, Lucan turned to address Catherine. However, he discovered she was not behind him. Growling, he looked around the tavern, wondering if he had few enough patrons to leave to find her and drag her back. Realizing he could, and wishing he couldn't, he made his way out the back, unnoticed by Vanora who was tending to her stove.

Lucan stepped outside into the fresh air, and drank it in greedily before remembering his purpose. His eyes roamed the dark before seeing the lump of a girl sitting by the well. He rolled his eyes, and prayed to the Gods she was not crying. He knew he would not be able to console her.

Much to his dismay, she was crying and he hesitated before letting his presence be known. He did, however, and cleared his throat.

Catherine's head whipped up and she crossed her arms over her chest, turning away from him.

"Leave me alone."

Lucan shrugged and took a step back. Well, if that was what she wanted, he certainly did not want to go chasing after her. He was not the sort to pursue blubbering women.

As if knowing he would actually leave her alone, Catherine turned.

"This is your fault." She said.

Lucan's eyes widened and he looked at her incredulously. How could such a whimpering girl make him so angry so quickly. However, he said nothing, shaking his head at her.

"Well…okay…maybe…Maybe it isn't. But had you been acknowledging me tonight I wouldn't have been so angry at that man, and it wouldn't have happened." She said determinedly.

"You should not have let your emotions get away with you." He said, tight lipped but controlled.

"Ha! Easy enough for you to say! If you actually felt anything, you'd know it is not as easy as that."

Lucan, becoming annoyed, crossed his arms over his chest and surveyed her through glaring eyes.

Catherine, who took in a shuddering breath, sighed and looked down.

"I'm sorry. My mouth ran away with me."

"Happens quite frequently." He added.

Now she glared at him, raising her head and standing.

"Agh! I don't know why I put up with you!"

Lucan simply smiled and shook his head. It was less than _he_ had to deal with from _her_.

Catherine glared at him, watching a smile form on his face. Her fists clenched and she wondered if slapping that man had suddenly made her a violent person. All she wanted to do was wipe that smile off Lucan's face so hard that he would never speak to her this way again.

Lucan watched the muscles in her arm tensed and knew what she was thinking. He just smiled wider and waited for her to throw a punch. With a shake of his head he put his hands on her shoulders gently.

The girl in front of him jumped at the contact and he smiled. She looked at his hands on her shoulders and her eyes widened. Lucan, who for the past week had not said more than ten sentences to her, was now _touching_ her.

The anger disappeared and she looked up at him questioningly. What was he playing at?

"Once you've calmed, come back in and finish the night." He said.

Catherine shook her head violently.

"Nuh uh."

Lucan gave her a questioning look, one eyebrow raised.

"I…it'd be…embarrassing."

The young man rolled his eyes. "No one will remember it. The man you slapped won't remember it tomorrow morning. Come." He ordered, reaching down and grabbing her hand before pulling her after him.

He would not wait for her to 'calm' down, when in fact she would just be talking herself out of coming back in.

"Lucan! I don't want to!"

But apparently, Lucan did not care what Catherine wanted and pulled her back in. He glanced into the main hall and saw the last of the people leaving. He smiled, good, she would work without being distracted now.

"Clean up time."

She looked up at Lucan and sighed but did grab a rag and bucket before making her way in to clear and wash the tables down. Lucan followed after, cleaning along beside her, helping her pile dishes into a shallow tray. He carried the tray back and forth while she stacked, knowing it would be quicker this way.

Quicker when they worked together.

**

* * *

****A/N: **I want to thank all who read and reviewed. I'm surprised at how quickly I'm updating and I hope I don't run out of steam. I promise I won't quit on this story, I hate when all that happens. I don't know how long it will all be but I'm betting 20+ chapters. Don't worry, plot bunnies will begin to spring up everywhere, as soon as I figure out a plot. Hehe, thanks again! 


	6. Picnics and Prayers

**Brave Boy**

**Chapter Five**

"Dum…de dum…" Sang Catherine, as she scrubbed hard at the wooden table in front of her.

The sounds that came from her mouth were surprisingly happy; how could they not be? From outside, glorious sunlight streamed in, but the air around her was refreshingly cool and surprisingly clean feeling. The muggy, hot days of the heat wave had passed and for once the countryside was back to the pleasant weather it occasionally had.

Catherine intended to enjoy it…as soon as she was done with work.

So, she took the wash rag to the table like the rough paper the carpenters used to smooth wood. The result was stunning. She had gone through ten tables in less than five minutes and was moving on to the last section of the room with a fury. Her back bent in a curve that was very uncomfortable, but best for getting the work done. She would still have a few hours before serving if she got done soon.

Lucan watched her from the entrance's doorway with much amusement, a soft hint of a grin on his face. Well, if the days were nicer more often, there would be much less work to be done. Sighing, he finally entered and made his way to the back, amused even more with her ignorance of him.

As he walked into the back, he scanned the room for Vanora, and frowned when he did not find her slaving over cleaning or cooking. He made a move to walk back into the main hall when he heard a voice. Frowning, he turned and looked for the source of it. There should be no voice save for Catherine's or Vanora's. But this was much deeper…familiar as well.

He listened harder, and when he heard the voice from his left, made his way to the back door, trying to peer through the crack.

Lucan could see a man, clad in Roman garb. A woman's voice sounded, and he knew that must be Vanora. Then, he heard another, deep voice and knew Bors was there as well.

But who was the other?

"– from the North." Finished the Roman.

"What do you expect us to do about it?" Enquired Vanora, who did not sound pleased to be hearing this particular bit of information, or perhaps it was both the information and the man.

"Aye, Arthur, Vanora speaks true. What can I do? I am not as young as I once was, none of us are."

'Arthur'… Lucan scanned his mind for the knowledge of this name and his eyebrows rose. This could not be the king, here, could it? Lucan knew the Sarmatians once fought along Arthur. They had been the ones years ago to…

Pushing his thoughts from his mind, he listened more intently.

"I know, I need you to help gather some semblance of an army. Some group of men that can be trained, and then to help fight."

There was silence for a long time and Lucan flinched towards the back room, incase the conversation was completed.

"Bors'll help." Vanora said simply.

Her husband, Lucan knew, would look none too happy, and the grunt of astonishment that came from the large man was proof enough of this.

Then, he sighed and that was a signal of compliance.

"Yes, then, Arthur, I'll help you."

"Good." said the king simply.

It was then Lucan knew he best get back to work, moving away from the door, frowning, and going back to the kitchen. What was coming from the North? There had not been an attack for years. Since the Saxons had been vanquished, no one had dared.

His thoughts were interrupted by Catherine, however, and when she walked into the back. Well, hopping and skipping were better words for how she arrived. She smiled brightly at the troubled boy and sighed happily.

"Done, done, done. Done with work, done with being anywhere important for four whole…"

Catherine stopped when she looked upon the boy - er...man, in front of her. Even she could tell when something was troubling Lucan. He frowned often, but much more often when something was on his mind.

"What is it?" She asked.

Nothing, she hoped, that would ruin her day. She had worked far too hard at those tables to be told she would be staying until open. No, she would simply not allow it. She was going to go home, gather a picnic and go out for a day of food and laziness in the beautiful sunshine of the day.

Lucan looked up at her and shrugged, his face softening. "Nothing." He said simply.

At his attempt to walk past her, Catherine reached out and grabbed his shoulder to keep him from passing."C'mon, Lucan. You can tell me. Do I have to stay later? Because I won't do it." She said flatly.

Lucan simply looked at her in confusion before sighing and moving on. "Not everything involves you."

Catherine's eyebrows rose. "Excuse me? Fine, well...then something is bothering you. What is it?"

"Do not trouble yourself."

The girl growled and grabbed Lucan's arm harder, pulling him out to the main hall and then out the front door. "Quit being this way. How can you be like...well...like _you_ on a day like this?"

Sighing, Catherine hesitated a moment before making up her mind. Even though her relaxing day would be ruined, she might as well.

"C'mon, you and I will go for a picnic."

At this, she began to drag him with her.Lucan was too stunned for a moment before his eyebrows hooded over his eyes. "No, I don't go on 'picnics'."

"Ha, now you do. Everyone goes on picnics."

Catherine was astonished as he allowed her to keep pulling him. He could have stopped her whenever he felt like it. This just cemented her thoughts that he needed, and wanted, to be happy today. Even if he had a sour look on his face.

"Where are we going?" He asked suddenly.

She looked up and smiled. "We are going to get food and then go to my favorite spot."

* * *

Catherine's 'favorite spot' included an old, decaying tree and a small puddle that could hardly be considered a lake. Lucan stood overlooking the poor excuse for an oasis and sighed. This was not his idea of a grand picnic. Not with Catherine scurrying down the hill with a sack full of half-cold food that was not very much in quantity.

However, he felt the need to please her. After all, she had been working extremely well. So, he trailed behind her, looking around to find anything remotely pleasing to the eye. He settled on looking at Catherine for the present moment, though he was not sure if that was better than then gnarled tree. He grinned at the thought.

"Are you sure this is the place?" He asked as he surveyed her.

Catherine had spread a thread-bare blanket out on the grass and was setting the parcels of food out. She looked perplexed but ignorant of his feelings when she looked up, pausing from her work.

"Yes, of course, I've been coming here for years."

With that, she simply went back to preparing. Lucan sighed and looked around for a suitable seat, finding refuge on a patch of soft grass. He heard the clearing of a throat and looked up.

To find Catherine raising an eyebrow at him, looking rather annoyed.

"Get over here now. I will not have you sulking like an over sized, moping arse." She growled.

That voice would have made anyone jump up upon hearing it. Lucan sat next to Catherine, looking over the lunch with interest. His stomach growled and he heard Catherine giggle.

"Wow, you are human." She jested.

He shot her a glare and reached out for a roll. Only to have his hand slapped away. Frowning, he looked at his companion, who only raised her eyebrows and held out her hand for him to take.

He looked at, like it was a foreign object. Perhaps, for him, it was. He looked back up to Catherine, who had closed her eyes and it dawned on him. Prayer.

Lucan hesitantly took her hand, holding it lightly and carefully as though it would jump up and bite him. Catherine began to pray, a short and sweet prayer about giving thanks to God for all they had received.

Lucan pulled his hand away slowly and looked down at it.

Catherine, who noticed his awkwardness, raised an eyebrow. "Don't you ever pray?" she asked.

Lucan shook his head. "Never."

Realization dawned in her eyes and she jumped a little, turning to face him.

"Are you…you're not. You couldn't be. Hardly anyone is anymore. I mean, many are, but I never see them because they mostly stick to their own houses, and I know the queen is, but I thought she converted or something. She goes to church, with King Ar – "

For a moment, Catherine had continued to speak through the hand that covered her mouth.

"You talk too much." Lucan said simply and reached out to take a roll, relieving the food of a large chunk of its mass.

He took his hand back, wiping it on his pant as if it was infected. He looked up after a moment to find Catherine's bright, curious eyes staring at him as if he was a diamond she had found.

"What?!" He asked angrily, causing her to flinch.

"You-You're…Are you a pagan?" She finished quickly.

Lucan looked surprised and pondered her answer. No, he concluded, he was not a pagan. Nor a Christian. He was not anything. He may have been something when he was young, he could not remember exactly what he praised.

"No." He said.

Catherine looked confused, "Well, yes, yes you are. You must be."

He shook his head and took another bite, finishing the bread easily. Catherine ignored this and pressed him further.

"Lucan, you have to be _something_. Every one is _something_."

"Well I'm not."

He took a bit of chicken, biting off a chunk of white meat.

Catherine looked disgusted that he should be eating in front of her, but continued anyway.

"You must be. Were you baptized when you were younger?" She pressed.

Lucan could feel his hair bristle at the back of his neck. Memories of his youth were his own, and he felt as if she was probing in his ear, looking for a snippet of something to get what she wanted. She was starting to wear on him. He had hoped that this would perhaps be relaxing, and that she would not prove to be as taxing as he believed. He was wrong. Turning to look at her he growled.

"Drop it Catherine. I am nothing. If I once was, I know not anymore. Can you just leave it!?" Brave Boy

"No." She said simply.

He glared and got up, throwing the chicken down to make his way back to the village. He had had enough. No food, free or not, was worth the vexing girl.

He heard footsteps crunching behind him and turned, stopping to look at Catherine.

"I-I…"

"What!?" He yelled frustration apparent on his face.

"I'm…sorry, I guess."

"You guess?" He asked, taking a step toward her.

She backed up for a moment and nodded.

"Well, I mean, I should say 'will you forgive me' because this is the way I am. I talk a lot, and I apologize for that. But…I don't see the harm in it."

Her blunt words made him start and he sighed. Of course, he thought.

"You are forgiven." He took a step back to continue on his way when a hand reached out to stop him.

He looked down at it and then turned, raising one eyebrow inquisitively.

"C'mon, you forgave me, can we go eat?"

Lucan shook his head and smiled faintly at her, so quick she was not sure if he was grimacing or smiling. He put his hand over hers, and Catherine was surprised at the heat she felt. Or was that coming from her face?

He pried her hand off gently and held it for a moment, patting it friendly before moving away from her.

Catherine watched until he was far away and turned back to her picnic, realizing that for every step she took with Lucan to be his friend, she always bumped herself two steps back…and it was bloody frustrating!

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you all so much for reviewing, it means a lot. Here's the next chapter, not a lot to say, I'm sorry it is so late though. We had our annual variety show and I was busy. Not that you need to know. Toodles! 


	7. Proclamation

Brave Boy

Chapter Six: Proclamation

The next day, Hadrian's Wall was stirring well before the markets opened an unusual sight for the community. Men, mostly young but many older, crowded around the training arenas. Lucan passed by with only a glance, frowning in curiosity at the number of people awake this early morning.

The early morning was on most occasions desolate, unless it was a festival day. The streets were left alone, dust settling and only kicked up by one solitary boy, Lucan. Now, young children, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes followed their fathers to clean sheets of white paper hammered to wood posts.

All of the commotion irked Lucan, who had become used to this being his time of day, when he could simply walk the streets in peace. He growled as a boy only slightly younger than he passed by, knocking into him. He felt another accidental push and before he could help it, he was pushed along with the mob. Fighting against it, he managed to get into a small bubble of his own space and frowned at the people around him.

What was so interesting? Many of these people couldn't read.

Lucan looked to the paper and squinted to see over the heads of men. He could make out only a few words, many of the others were too complex for him to make out.

"What does it say?" He asked another boy, who shrugged.

The boy nudged another, "Can you read it?" He asked.

The Roman boy turned and nodded smugly, "It's a request from King Arthur, for boys and men to volunteer for a reserve army."

One eyebrow lifted on Lucan's face before both hooded his eyes, a brooding look crossing him.

He took a step back, finding someone blocking him from behind. He turned and fought to hide his shock.

There stood Sir Galahad and Sir Gawain. Lucan quickly turned around, looking forward with flushed cheeks. He took a side step and made his way around a group of boys crowded together, so the knights would not see. He paused and then pushed his way through the boys to the street, hurrying away.

Breathing hard, he made his way to work, checking himself and slowing when he realized he was rushing.

_Is it a request…or an order?_ He thought harshly, wishing he could make out more words now, instead of relying on a Roman boy, who may have been lying. _And if it's an order…_

Lucan looked up as he wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing around. He had passed by the tavern. Sighing softly he back tracked, and when he entered his eyes widened, shocked for the second time in less than an hour.

The tavern was filled with early morning patrons, many more than any other morning. Lucan sighed and rubbed his eyes, this day was shaping out to be unpleasant. He moved through the people to the back and was once more surprised.

There was Catherine, hunched over the stove, cracking eggs and frying sausage. Lucan stood for a moment and cleared his throat gently. When Catherine didn't react he cleared it louder and garnered a quick glance.

"Ah, there you are." She said and picked up two plates, "The two side tables. This one to the old man, and this to the woman." She said, loading his arms.

Lucan looked down before moving quickly out into the room, serving the people before moving to the back. He was quickly burdened with a tray full of tea to serve to the entire brood.

When the morning hour was done, and Catherine was slumped against a chair, sliding into it slowly. Lucan took a deep breath after feeling as though it was held in the entire morning.

"I never want to repeat that." Catherine admitted, looking up as he came into the back.

"Vanora?"

"With Bors and some man, they went out." She said with a shrug, "And I am bloody well angry, she left me with the hardest job I have ever done."

Lucan was silent as Catherine began to ramble and tirade, complaining about her feet and her back. The young man sighed and looked down at her, reaching his hand out and closing his mouth.

"You did well, now be quiet, I am thinking."

Catherine glared at him, pushing his hand away and crossing her arms over her chest. "Humph…what about?" she asked haughtily.

He told her about the paper and what the boy had said. The crowd seemed to shock her the most and she checked out into the main hall, which was emptying quickly.

"That must be why we had this lot in here so early."

Lucan gave her a small murmur of acknowledgement and went back to thinking.

Of course, Catherine could always be relied upon to jar his thoughts…but ask exactly what he was thinking.

"Are you going to join?" she said softly, looking over from her chair, resting against the back of it, her head on her arm.

Lucan looked up sharply, glaring before looking away and sighing.

"I don't know.'

"Well do you want to?"

"I do not know, Catherine."

"Well either you do or you do not, it is not something to think about."

Lucan sighed and got up, moving to go outside to think in peace.

"Wait, wait! No, I am sorry. Sorry, I shouldn't have pried, I am sorry."

Lucan looked back and raised an eyebrow in question. Was she apologizing for prying?

"What?!" she asked, glaring at him.

"Nothing, it is just…nothing." He said and sighed, the moment gone. "Did Vanora say when she would be back?"

Catherine shook her head, "By the looks of the man who called on them, it is something important."

Lucan nodded and stood, ready to get back to work, but Catherine stopped him.

"I do not think you should join."

Turning back, the boy looked confused, "Why not?"

Catherine turned her eyes away and shrugged, "I do not think you would be…_good_ at –"

"Fighting?" He asked, feeling his temper rise. He was neither a weakling, nor a simple, dumb stable boy.

"No!" she said quickly, "War, I do not think you could kill." Her voice getting quieter as she spoke until it was merely a whisper.

Defiantly, Lucan crossed his arms over his chest.

"You know me well enough to say this, you think?" He started angrily.

Catherine looked up and opened her mouth, "Well –"

"Well you do not." He answered for her, sternly and angrily.

The girl narrowed her eyebrows, her hands going stubbornly to her hips.

"I think I know you _well_ enough to know that you are an arse, yes, but not a killer!" I she growled angrily.

Lucan took a step forward and seeing the girl's eyes widen and then falter he shook his head and retreated.

"If I wish to join, I will join. No one is my keeper, no one will tell me what to do."

"Oh, Lord, do not just join to show off that you can fight." She said, rolling her eyes.

Lucan shot her a glare and exited the backroom, taking a mop to the main hall.

* * *

A/N: Sorry this has been coming for about two months. Writers block, I believe. So this chapter may suck hard core, and is rather short as I just needed to type to get out of the funk. More coming soon. hopefully. Thank you to all reviewers, especially homeric who has been especially faithful. 


	8. No One

**A/N:** Here is the next installment. I know it took me a long time, but I worked very hard on it. I don't want to put a plug in for people to review, but the lack of them has kid of got me down. But, even knowing someone is reading wants to make me write more…as does watching the movie. It was on today!

**Chapter Seven: No One**

* * *

Lucan thought his arm might break and he winced as long, steel swords met at a clash, the vibrations snaking up the young man's arm to his skull. He blinked away the black and silver dots that wiggled in his vision and he took a step back, shaking his head to clear out the rest of the fog.

He stood slowly, afraid he might fall over and make even a bigger fool out of himself. Sir Gawain simply smiled and patted the young man on the back, "Good." He said and pushed him out of the way.

Lucan went sprawling, landing on his knees, his hands stretched out in front of him. He took a deep breath and stood, trying not to turn red. But no one was laughing. Many of the other men had received the same treatment. No one was showing their best today under the strain of being tested by the legendary Sarmatians, and as Lucan walked to the end of the next line, he looked up to see what awaited him next.

As he wiped his muddy hands on his pants, he kept telling himself that this was what he wanted, that he wasn't just doing this to prove a point or to show that he could actually survive this life. But that just wasn't true. Every time he gripped his sword, the muscles of his torso would clench, as if something had not agreed with his stomach.

Closing his eyes, he saw large eyes and even bigger hands but forced the image away and looked up, surprised to find himself at the front of the line and facing a tired and frustrated looking Sir Galahad. Lucan swallowed, taking a step forward only to be instantly accosted by a huge sword.

There followed a series of blocks and dodges, but no swinging or forward attacks on Lucan's part. Mostly, it was all about staying out of the swing and making sure he went home with all body parts intact.

Galahad growled as he swung once more. "C'mon boy, fight back!" He screamed at his opponent, who he now recognized as Lucan.

Lucan breathed hard, earning a small reprieve by throwing Galahad off his footing for just a moment. But Galahad hadn't paused that long, and came back swinging, his sword in one hand high above his head.

As if time slowed down, Lucan saw a small opening under Galahad's arm left open for attack, a spot hardly bigger than a coin on his right side. He didn't know what made him act so quick, being so tired, but Lucan would be thankful for his quick thinking. He stood straight and lunged to the left, swinging his sword right.

And then he waited for the feeling, whatever one could call it. He wasn't even sure what it would feel like. All he knew was that he had not blocked Galahad's strike, but he didn't feel a sharp pain. He felt his sword slide through something like butter and heard the line behind him go silent.

He closed his eyes as he knelt, pausing for a moment before opening his eyes. What he saw shocked him more than if he had actually killed Galahad. Lucan felt foolish as he stood, looking at the damage he had inflicted.

It was nothing, only a torn shirt and a light scratch, he knew, but the rest of the boys with him were all looking wide eyed.

"What?" He growled suddenly, overcome by an embarrassment.

They simply looked from Lucan to Galahad in wonderment.

Galahad looked surprised and his fingers felt at the torn tunic.

"Well," he said, sounding pleased, "Good work, Lucan."

Confused, Lucan walked away from the last line and sat near the stables, where a healer tended to any scrapes and cuts the men may have acquired. Lucan felt a stinging on his right shoulder and turned to see a small pool of blood forming. He touched it gingerly and decided to wait his turn for a free patch-up.

As he waited, his eyes scanned the rest of the men and boys in line. Gawain was patting a man who looked around thirty on the back, leading him away from the line, and Lucan frowned as the man left the training arenas, clearly rejected. A few others too young, too old, or just not talented enough were politely patted on the back and seen on to the streets.

What had he meant with 'good work'? All he had done was rip a shirt?

Once bandaged and cleaned, Lucan sheathed his practice sword, and placed it in the pile with others.

He, along with everyone else, waited for the last recruits to finish preliminary training. Once they had, Sir Gawain, Sir Galahad, and Sir Bors stood in front of the assembly.

"Good, all of you, good," said Bors.

Gawain nodded and turned to the crowd. "What Bors here means is to congratulate you, you've made it thus far. Now, before any of you even consider going through with this, I need to know how many of you actually understand what is going on."

It wasn't only Lucan's eyes who searched to find someone raising their hand. No one did.

"It should come as no surprise to many of you – " Galahad began, only to be cut off by Gawain.

"The Saxons are invading from the North."

"Again." Bors added with boredom and annoyance ringing in his voice.

"Yes, again. The point is, we'll be needing infantry, you men, to help out the regular army." Gawain continued.

"So, if any of you feel the need to piss your trousers at the thought of battle, leave now." Galahad chimed in.

"But those here, who are up to contributing to your country, meet here tomorrow at dawn."

No one moved, but Lucan knew that many of the men here wouldn't return the next day.

* * *

Though it was approaching dusk, Lucan returned to the tavern. Sore and tired, he knew that the taste of training he received today would increase tenfold on the morrow. However, he made the trek to the tavern, seeing a plethora of men from the training fields.

They acknowledged him as he passed, causing Lucan some confusion. None of these men had ever even looked his way before today. Never in his life had he heard so many, 'Hello's' directed his way.

Pushing the door to the back he was greeted by Vanora and a few of her older children, including Gily. Catherine stood washing dishes in the corner, and Lucan sighed at the sight of her. It was the first time she had never looked up and said something – anything – when he entered a room.

Not that he was disappointed. He couldn't care less. It was actually a good thing. He could get on with his work.

"Lucan!" Vanora said with a smile, "What are you doing here? You have the day off I thought, for training. I know you won't be able to help much more, but Catherine seems to have the hang of it now, I think."

Lucan glanced from the woman to the girl and nodded, "She does."

At this, Catherine paused before continuing her work, still ignoring Lucan.

Vanora followed Lucan's eyes, and she gave a small smirk.

"Well," she said, "Since I have my brood here to work, Catherine, you can have the day off as well."

Catherine stopped what she was doing and looked up at Vanora, "Oh, no, please…it's no trouble I –"

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be busy enough in the next few…" Vanora fell silent and looked over at her children before putting on a smile. "Perhaps you and Lucan could take a walk." When she was met with unfavorable looks, Vanora ordered them out, her hands shooing the pair of them away.

Lucan stumbled a little outside, trying not to touch Catherine on his way out.

She begrudgingly followed, looking back at Vanora and scowling.

"You could look a bit happier."

A small 'hmph' was all that answered him.

"Fine. We won't talk." He agreed and grabbed her hand, pulling her along in his walk.

She took her hand back, crossing them over her chest and looking away from him as they walked down the street. Lucan smiled softly as the air slowly started to cool with the setting sun.

Catherine glanced over at him, scowling. "What are you smirking at?"

"What are you scowling at?" he fired back.

"You." She said simply.

It was Lucan's turn to frown and he gave a little jump to get in front of her, "What do you mean?"

"You, joining whatever it was you joined, to go off and fight."

"Catherine, why do you even care?" He asked.

"Because, you're going to go off and get yourself killed."

Lucan sighed, rolling his eyes. He could never get a straight answer from her.

"And…because I might miss you…a little."

Lucan's eyebrows rose and the smirk widened.

"What are you smiling about?" She growled.

Lucan simply shrugged and moved on, waiting for her to catch up. She did and looked up at him through squinted eyes.

"So…" she started conversationally.

"Are you hungry?" He interrupted; knowing anything that came out of her mouth might put him off walking with her.

She looked taken aback but nodded silently and Lucan grabbed her hand, leading her to the square and to a stall. He picked out a few apples, cheese and a loaf of bread, reaching into his breeches and pulling out a few coins.

"C'mon, we'll find a place to sit."

Catherine followed obediently, watching Lucan's back as he found a spot on some outdoor benches nearby. She sat next to him, allowing space for the food to rest. They ate in a companionable silence, though Catherine felt slightly awkward.

Once finished she sat back, surveying Lucan through a lazy and sated disposition.

"You're strange, Lucan. And I'm still angry at you." She said abruptly, unable to stand the silence any longer. "Do you really have to do this?"

Lucan frowned and looked at the ground in front of him. "I do."

Catherine growled in frustration, sitting up. "What do you mean? You don't _have_ to do anything. You're just doing this to…I don't even know why you're doing this!"

"Because…"

"Because why!?"

"Because I think…I think he would have wanted me to." Lucan answered, his voice softening.

"Who – oh… Sir Dagonet."

Lucan's eyes snapped suddenly to hers and she jumped in surprise.

"I…I don't think he would have wanted you to go and get yourself killed." Catherine said in a small voice.

Lucan bristled, his voice rising, "Well, no one is going to know what he wanted, are they?"

"You might listen to what other people who care about you want!" she retorted.

Lucan stood, "No! I don't give a shite! Catherine, you can't leave it alone at all, can you? I try to be your friend, I try to put up with your nagging but you just – "

_Well_, Lucan thought later when he was dressing for bed, _that was rather abrupt_.

Catherine had turned to walk away from him, and then in one sudden movement had turned back around, marched up to him, and hugged him.

Lucan's eyes rose into his bangs and he looked down at the girl around his middle.

"C-Catherine…" he said softly, and repeated it more firmly before she looked up.

As if realizing what she'd done, she jumped back, folding her arms over her chest. She flushed red and looked at the ground.

"S-sorry…I…sorry." She said, and when she didn't hear him talk her eyes slid slowly up from his boots to his eyes.

"What was that?"

"I just…you are insufferable."

"Excuse me?"

"You should care about what Vanora and all of her kids, and my cousin and I want, because we only want what's best for you. And I am telling you, if you go gallivanting off to God-knows-where, you'll be injured or killed."

Lucan looked down at the girl in front of him and took a deep breath.

"Catherine, I'm not doing anything now. I'm slaving away in a tavern as a serving boy and doing squire work in the mornings, but not actually learning anything. I'm tired of doing nothing."

He sounded weary and he closed his eyes.

"I'm tired of being no one."


	9. Galen, Garrett, Thaddeus, Leon, Baldric

**A/N:** Whoo hoo quick update! I've got the writing bug, so I'm trying to use it as much as possible!

**Chapter Eight: Galen, Garrett, Thaddeus, Leon and Baldric**

* * *

"Strike, thrust! High block, cut!" yelled Gawain 

Bors hobbled onto a wooden bench so he could peer out across the number of men grouped before him. All young men…too young, holding large single-handed swords, some longer than the men were tall. He tried not to smile at the sight, knowing that he was once this small, this inexperienced. Now, however, he could feel that there would be a time in the near future where he would not be able to lift the sword he had used.

Glancing around, he looked for Lucan and raised an eyebrow at what he saw. The boy was struggling, slightly at least. Bors tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out just what was wrong. He frowned, stepping down from the bench and moving through the lined rows of men to the boy. He stopped in front of Lucan; hands crossed over his broad chest, and surveyed him.

He found the tiny problem after only a moment. The boy seemed to favor his left hand over his right and Bors moved to him, holding up a hand so he would stop his movements.

* * *

Lucan swallowed hard as he saw Bors approach him, trying to grip the sword tighter, trying to force it to behave. He pushed his hair from his brow, feeling the sweat beading down his forehead. He felt his face tinge red when the man stopped to watch him. He looked up at Gawain, following his movements and orders as closely as possible. 

"Thrust, low block!"

It was a moment before he saw the hand and once he did, he abruptly stopped, standing straight.

"Y-yes?" He asked hesitantly.

"Your right arm, is it injured?"

Lucan frowned and looked down at his arm and shook his head. "No, sir. I…when I was young my arm was broken and was not tended to right away."

"Yes, yes…but wasn't that fixed by – "

"Yes sir, though I still favor my left hand." Lucan quickly interrupted.

Bors thought for a moment before nodding and taking the sword from Lucan before putting it in his left hand.

"Then use your left hand if you must, mirror the moves you see."

Bors smiled reassuringly at the boy and moved on, looking back to watch as Lucan did as he was ordered. Lucan gripped the sword much better with his left hand and turned to mirror the moves he watched Gawain execute. He found his balance and strength better, smiling softly to himself.

At noon, when it was vastly approaching a scorching temperature, Gawain lowered his sword, turning to watch as the men now in front of him fell to one knee and stripped off their helmets, drenched in sweat.

Lucan, along with many others, remained standing, too tired even to fall over. He removed his helmet gingerly, placing it softly on the ground.

Gawain nodded and sheathed his own sword. "Good, all of you, dismissed for today!"

Lucan sheathed his sword and returned it to its proper place, but as he turned to leave he found Bors barring his way out.

"Excuse me." He said politely, looking down, waiting to pass.

"Come with me." Bors ordered, grabbing Lucan by his bicep and pulling him along.

Lucan began to protested, but dared not. Bors was no longer just the husband of his employer, but his superior officer. He swallowed hard, and wondered just what was in store for him. Had he done something wrong?

Bors pulled him into a small wooden building, and Lucan's eyes widened at what greeted him. Hanging along the walls were axes, swords and outfits of armor. Lucan could hardly grasp the numbers of weapons and when he could tear his eyes away he realized Bors had left his side.

"Sir?" He asked, looking around before spotting the large man by the biggest selection of armor by far.

Bors turned to look at Lucan and motioned him over before prying an axe from its place on the wall. He looked down at it, turning it over in his hands, looking for any damages…or perhaps he was just looking for the sake of remembering.

Frowning, Lucan obliged Bors, moving to stand beside the man.

Sighing, Bors turned the weapon over in his hand once more and held it out to Lucan.

Lucan's eyebrows furrowed and he opened his mouth to speak.

"It was Dag's." Bors' voice is gruff and he looks up at the suit of armor behind him. "He used it most."

* * *

The axe was heavy in Lucan's hand as he placed it amongst his things. He looked about his small room, now located in the barracks and took a deep breath. He could not look at the axe, could not grasp the fact that here was something besides the ring he wore about his neck to remind him of Dagonet. 

But he did not wish for thoughts of a man he had spent the better part of his life trying to forget.

A sudden knocking at his door gave Lucan a start and he quickly folded the axe up in a tattered blanket and placed it under his bed, turning and moving to open the door.

Lucan was met with a few laughs and male voices. He frowned, seeing a young man about his age he knew from training. For the life of him, he couldn't remember the man's name.

"Oi, Lucan, a few of us are going to the tavern. Join us, why don't you?" he said, turning and motioning to the group of about four men behind him, all around the same age as he.

Lucan paused for a moment and looked back at where he knew the axe was resting safely. He sighed and then nodded, "Sure."

The boys laughed and cheered merrily, grabbing Lucan and pulling him out with them.

"You may not know many of the men here." The man who had greeted Lucan began. "That's Galen, Garrett, Thaddeus, Leon and I am, of course, Baldric the Great."

Thaddeus, a blonde boy who seemed to be smiling more often then not, snorted in disbelief. "Baldric the Great Arse." He murmured, earning a punch on the shoulder from Baldric but he let loose a loud laugh.

Lucan glanced at the boys walking behind him. He had seen them around, of course. As they were all of his age, they had all retained similar jobs as squires and local freelance workers to earn whatever they could. However, he didn't really know them. When he was still a child one of these boys had probably tried to befriend him, but Lucan had never taken notice. After a while, any child near had not even glanced his way, knowing it would be of no use.

Galen could easily be spotted. He was the blacksmith's son, and had smudges of black on his hands, clothes, and freckled face. Every now and then he would run a hand through his long, sandy hair and add a few blots of black there as well.

Lucan was currently being squished between Garrett and Leon, both of whom had inky black hair, though Leon's reached his upper back and Garrett's was cropped around his face in tight curls. While Leon had bright green eyes, it was hard for Lucan to look at Garrett's deep brown ones. They appeared so dark that there may have been black holes in Garrett's eyes.

Lucan could call none of the boys present his friends, but he supposed it would do no harm to get to know his fellow soldiers. So, as they made their way out onto the street, he smiled and talked with the men and as they entered the tavern, he looked around for Vanora…or Catherine. They found a table, and Lucan sat near Leon and Baldric while Garrett, Galen and Thaddeus sat down near them, Thaddeus pulling out his set of dice.

"How are you holding up?" Leon asked as Baldric pounded on his table, trying to get a barmaid's attention.

"Fine." Lucan said simply with a shrug and Leon nodded in agreement.

"I expect it'll get much worse before it gets better."

"I don't think it will get better for another year." Lucan said truthfully.

"I can't wait for training to be finished."

"Aye, some of us don't need the blasted training." Baldric said curtly.

"Some of us do more than others." Leon reminded him, rolling his eyes.

"Fuck it all; what does it take to get some service around here!" Baldric yelled, catching the attention of a dark haired girl.

Before she could turn, Lucan knew it was Catherine and winced, knowing that Baldric's bad humor would reflect badly on him. She searched for the cause of the noise and spotted Baldric before her eyes flickered over the table. Her eyebrows rose into her bangs, surprised to find him amongst these boys. She hesitated before excusing herself from another patron to make her way over.

Lucan looked down, trying not show his embarrassment. When he looked up, she was taking orders.

"Mead, please." He ordered quietly.

His politeness garnered him a few chuckles and looks from the boys. Baldric laughed and looked up at Catherine.

"Drink for all of us, and…" Baldric reached out, grabbing Catherine around the middle and shoving her into Lucan's lap, "Perhaps you could keep him company as well."

Catherine blushed from her nose to her toes as Lucan caught her softly. She jumped up quickly and Lucan smiled apologetically.

"Well, hurry up, girl!" Baldric yelled and Catherine shot him a glare before she moved off to get their order.

When she was gone, he turned his attention to Lucan.

"Who's that bird? Wouldn't mind getting her into my bed for a night, eh? I expect she'll lose that baby fat if I work it off of her." He chuckled.

Lucan flushed red and looked down at the table. "Her name is Catherine."

"Already worked her, have you?" He asked, laughing once more.

"I work with her, here." Lucan said simply, "I haven't bedded her, if that's what you mean."

"Have you bedded _anyone_, Lucan?" asked Garrett, who slid away from gambling to hear the conversation.

Lucan blushed even more, glaring at the boys. "Have you?" he fired back at the boy angrily.

Galen laughed. "Garrett? Nah, he's too shy, aren't you wittle Garrett?"

"Shut it, you prissy boy."

Galen laughed and looked over at Lucan, "If they ever ask something like that again, just give them a punch to the face and they'll shut up easily enough. That's why Thad's nose is so crooked, he knows what happens when he makes me angry."

"Galen, you couldn't punch the broad side of a barn." Said Thaddeus, throwing a dye at the boy's head.

"Could thing your nose is about the size of Briton!"

Thaddeus laughed at this, pounding his hand on the table as he did.

Lucan raised his eyebrows at this exchange and smiled. Once Catherine came back with their alcohol, Lucan was pleasantly laughing and joking with the rest of them. When he saw the mug in front of him, however, he looked up at her. She didn't look back, and finished serving the table without a glance.

He frowned and got up, "Be back, boys."

He followed after her, stopping her before she could go into the back, "I'm sorry about that…what happened before. They're just joking, you know. It's harmless."

"Don't worry about it." She said, finally looking at him in the eye.

"They don't mean anything, so just ignore them. Or hit them, that is what Galen told me to do."

"I said don't worry about it Lucan, go have fun with your friends." She shrugged and pushed into the backroom, smiling at him.

Lucan sighed in frustration, giving up and walking back to the table. _At least she had smiled, that meant she wasn't mad, right?_

Leon raised one eyebrow at Lucan, who frowned. "What?" He asked.

Leon shrugged, "Oh nothing," he said with an amused smile on his face.

Lucan felt self conscious for a moment, but it was soon forgotten as he continued to talk and soon eat with the men around him. It was a strange feeling, being surrounded by people who wanted to be around him, but it wasn't bad.

* * *

After most of the boys had gone home, Lucan stood, excusing himself from Baldric and Thaddeus, who seemed to be busy with two girls that Lucan knew very well to be prostitutes. Lucan cleaned up the dishes left over on his table, stacking them and taking them into the back. He set them near the sink basin, where Catherine set down her own stack moments later. She was surprised to see him. 

"I thought you'd have gone home by now." She said, wiping her hands on her apron.

He shrugged and began to wash the dishes.

"Lucan! You-stop! You don't have to do that!"

"I want to." He said, continuing to work.

She sighed and shook her head at him, turning to continue cleaning. He smiled at her retreating back, finishing the dishes in front of him. With each stack she brought he would dutifully clean until he was sure that was the end.

Lucan turned to find Catherine leaning on a counter, watching him critically.

"What?"

She snapped out her staring and stood straight, "Nothing. I'm…er…I'm going home, and I need to shut everything up…"

Lucan looked from her to the front room, surprised to find it deserted, the front door locked.

"It's later than I thought."

She nodded, "You need to get to sleep for training tomorrow morning."

He sighed, looking from the back door to the front, nodding softly.

"Come, I'll walk you home."

"Oh, no, it's fine I can – "

"Catherine," he interjected, grabbing her hand, "c'mon."

She managed to delay him long enough to shut and lock the back door. He pulled her up beside him, keeping his eyes on the road to the front and the alleys around them.

"So, you're making new friends, I see." She commented softly.

"Eh, maybe. I doubt we'll spend time together again."

"Why?"

"Well, they're them…and I…I'm me. You know me."

"Oh, that explains it." Catherine said, snorting at the insufficient answer.

Her hand began to sweat a little from his grasp and she turned red at the thought of what he might do or say, but he didn't drop it.

"Well, I'm not very…social…"

"You seemed 'social' enough tonight."

Lucan smiled at the memory, but he shrugged the next second, his eyes downcast. "We'll see. Here we are."

Catherine looked up at her house, surprised they had arrived so quickly.

"Oh, well, good night. Go get some sleep." She ordered with a wrinkling of her nose.

He watched her smile, hesitated and then leaned down to kiss her cheek chastely before taking a few steps back.

"You too, you have to run the tavern by yourself now, my young apprentice."

"Ah, but I have Vanora, and I do believe the apprentice has become the master, I did good work tonight…" she said, trying to mask her surprise with jesting.

He smiled and nodded, "You did great. Good bye."

"See you tomorrow?" Catherine asked hopefully and Lucan nodded. "See you tomorrow, then."


	10. Sunday

A/N: Feel free to shoot. But before you do, know I've been reading tons on the Arthurian legend and definitely know where the story is going. I think, hehe. I know it's very short, but it sets up the next chapter.

**Chapter Nine: Sunday**

* * *

_I don't feel like a soldier_, Lucan thought while Galahad blathered on about the duties and sacrifices one must make for the duty of the sword. Sitting a bit straighter, Lucan struggled to think positive thoughts about the ideas being presented to him. This was a learning experience, he negotiated with himself, and a different idea. It might be stupid, he thought, but it's definitely something new.

He was, however, doing a better job than Baldric, who sat in the back and who Lucan could see sleeping soundly. It seemed Thaddeus was having a grand time, using the tip of his finger to disturb the sleeping squire gently.

Lucan turned his head forward once more, rubbing at his temples. He wasn't bored; on the contrary, he listened with subdued alertness. However, while he took in the noble words, it was hard to believe them when he felt as though his limbs might fall from his body. It was hard to take the words: "Live by your weapon," seriously when none had even battled a real opponent besides the wooden poles on the training grounds.

"We've done sword work, now we're moving on to axe you should all be well acquainted with the basic moves by the end of the lesson today. I know you're hurting, but if you push just a bit harder each day, it'll get easier." Said Gawain.

The men stood and herded like chattle to gather their weapons, walking out of the soldiers' quarters and onto the grounds, readying themselves in preset positions.

_Perhaps that is all we are…livestock to be used_, Lucan thought whimsically, but discarded the thought as a nuisance and went to pick out an axe, all the while his thoughts drifting to the one wrapped in cloth beneath his bed…

* * *

Several boys, including Lucan, fell to the ground in exhaustion, the axes sliding from their slick, sweaty hands onto the dusty ground beneath. Abdominals, biceps, and shoulders ached, but Bors simply used his commanding voice to berate the young men who were 'too exhausted to go on' as one of them put it.

"Too exhausted? Will you be _too exhausted_ when an enemy comes at you?"

The gruff old man picked up a trainee by the collar, throwing him to the side, "Get out of my sight." He growled.

The remaining boys got to their feet as swiftly as they could, hunching over to breathe.

"First rule?"

"Never relent!" the company shouted, standing straight into a combat stance.

The three knights smiled in satisfaction before ordering the dismissal.

* * *

"I think, if we split along the costs above the wall, it may be enough to flank them."

"Yes, but what if it's not?"

"Shall I remind you all that splitting up the men may come back to bite us through the arse?"

"If you have a better idea, by all means…"

"No one has an idea that's at all better – "

"I do. Let's go in, beat the bastards like we always do."

"Oh, bloody brilliant Bors why don't you do it single handedly then we – "

Arthur sat straight, silencing the men with a gentle raise of his hand. He looked haggard and older than he ever had.

"The thing is, gentlemen, we don't exactly know what we're up against. There's no way to tell from what side their coming into. We assume the North because that's been the most readily accessible when the Roman Empire was in rule… We may have established a fantasy, a kingdom where all can live in peace, and neglected to realize that this island is still in the midst of enemies swarming from all sides." He sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "We're going to need help."

"From who?" Galahad asked incredulously.

* * *

Catherine's eyes widened, looking over the disarrayed mess of humans in front of her, the front door still open behind. Her mouth had fallen open when she saw what was before her.

The shock had lasted about two seconds before annoyance had taken over.

"Wake up." She said sternly.

When the drunken boys before her didn't stir one bit her eyes flashed dangerously. She tapped her foot impatiently but when none of them moved _this_ time she growled, marching up to the table.

"Wake up!" She snipped a little more harshly and picked up an empty mug, slamming it on the table.

Most of the boys jumped at once, groaning and holding onto their heads. Her eyes narrowed and she slammed the mug down once more.

"Galen! I know your father, what would he say if he saw you now? And you, Thaddeus are already on unsteady ground with Vanora, if she finds you here she'll beat you over the head with Bors' sword!"

Galen smiled apologetically, blushing from the tips of his ears to the end of his nose, "Sorry, Cathy." He murmured slowly.

Thaddeus simply sighed, rubbing the sleep and drunkenness from his eyes, "What are you bloody sorry about, she's the one wakin' us up." He grunted.

Garrett and Leon, who had only just now become accustomed to the bright sunlight streaming in from the open door winced at this comment and prepared for –

_Slap!_

"Get up and get your sorry butts home and to church!" she screeched, kicking at the closest chair that Baldric happened to be on.

Thaddeus murmured curses as he stood, rubbing his cheek. But he wouldn't dare hit a girl and walked toward the door. The others stood as well, a little more slowly, dragging their feet. Catherine saw them out at the door and a few of them stopped to apologize.

Leon winked as he walked by and Garrett stopped to apologize.

"And don't take it out to hard on Lucan, we sort of…_urged_ him a little too much to let us in here."

Catherine's face didn't show a sign of mercy and she shrugged, "Nice of you to try to protect him."

"Seriously, it's not his fault – "

"Good bye Garrett."

The boy sighed and continued on his way, praying that Lucan, who had not been seen, was far away from the tavern today.

Catherine closed the door behind Garrett and sighed, leaning up against the rough wood. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at the mess in front of them. Truth be told…it could have been worse. It seemed the boys had picked up after themselves except for the last thing they had had before falling asleep right at the table, and that was only a few mugs. It didn't even smell that bad…

As she picked up a few mugs she frowned, listening to the shuffling coming from the back. She frowned and then glared towards the back.

"Oi! You in the back! I've already kicked your brothers out, if you don't get to moving out of this tavern I'll…skin you with my uncle's good hunting knife!" she called, starting toward the kitchen.

When she didn't hear footsteps right away she frowned and opened the door peeked her head in.

"Lucan?" she asked.

The boy looked up from his dishes, nodding a hello.

"What are you doing? Dishes? Again?" She asked, sounding defeated.

"Would you rather?" he asked, stepping back from the wash basin, his hands coated in soapy suds.

She shook her head, "No, no. By all means – you know, just what the hell were you thinking!?"

Lucan was shocked at the sudden attitude change. He frowned and then lowered his eyes to the ground, shame-faced.

"I'm sorry." He said genuinely.

Catherine opened her mouth to berate him, but closed her mouth and sighed.

"Fine, at least your trying…better than those other sacks of – "

"Do you mind?" he asked suddenly.

Catherine looked taken aback. "I will call them whatever I'd like – "

"No, I mean, could I have those?" he asked, pointing to the mugs in her hands.

"Oh, yes, of course." She said, sliding them into the water. She paused for a moment before looking up at him.

"I'm still mad at you, you know."

Lucan raised an eyebrow in confusion, "About what?"

"About this stupid thing, this fighting thing."

The young man rolled his eyes and went back to washing. "Could we please just have a pleasant Sunday? I'm tired, Catherine, and I want to get this done and then go find a nice place to crawl into and sleep."

She scoffed and leaned back against the counter, "You aren't going to work."

Lucan shrugged, "Vanora hasn't spoken to me about it, I could later, but right now I'm afraid my skull will burst open if there's anymore excitement this early."

Catherine nodded, biting her lip in contemplation, with nothing more to say.

"Tonight you should come with me to the festival." Lucan said suddenly.

The girl shook her head quickly, "Oh, no. I shouldn't. My uncle…"

" - will simply believe you're with friends, being a good Christian girl and praying."

Catherine shot him a dirty look which he simply returned with feigned innocence. He sighed once she didn't relent and dried his hands on a towel, walking over to her and shaking her shoulders.

"Come, you'll have fun, I swear it."

"You shouldn't swear." She chastised.

"You were doing it enough for the both of us earlier, I suppose."

She scowled.

"C'mon Catherine, you know you want to go."

She shook her head, defeated. "Fine, but I'll not have you drinking too much, or being rowdy."

He smiled and nodded, "I swear it."

"Don't swear."


	11. Festival, Part 1

**A/N:** Eh, quicker? Thanks for the reviews! Oh, and I don't own anything…at all. Really, this laptop is my mothers.

**A/N v.2**: Oh, I went through and made things flow a little better. And so far...only 24 hits and NO reviews. I am saddened...

**Chapter Ten: Festival, Part 1**

* * *

The Midsummer Festival had not been celebrated Hadrian's for two years. So, when presented with the challenge of making the newly reformed city's festival the best, the people of the wall rose to the occasion. 

Torches lined the main street to the top of the Hill, a lighted path to the festivities. At the center of that great mound, an enormous pit of fire burned, fed with large logs carried by more than five men. It illuminated the surroundings like the sun, which would help when the harvesting began. The bonfire burned away the humidity surrounding it, though did not help with the heat. It served as a warning to evil spirits, warding them off on this holy night.

Horse blankets littered the field, and long tables had been set up with every kind of food imaginable. People came, took what they liked, and sat to eat and enjoy the coming night. Music flittered around the people and the fire, coming from either home made instruments or, for those who were fortunate enough, ancient ones. Male and female Woads alike stood to dance, shouting like banshees into the sunset.

The predominantly pagan holiday was ignored, prayed upon, or warily attended by the Christians at the wall. However, the Woads and any others who took peace in the gods of nature felt giddy anticipation as the night arrived. Men and women painted blue, and wearing little else, walked through the streets before the festival began, laughing and dancing.

One girl, however, was shyly silent and bug-eyed at the people, skirting away from touching them and clinging to the man she walked with.

Lucan raised his eyebrows, smiling in amusement at Catherine, who had grabbed onto his arm.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently.

Catherine started and nodded, "Oh, yes, of course. I'm fine."

With her free hand, she hugged her stomach self-consciously; looking down at the white linen that she felt barely covered her body. It reached her toes, of course, where boots covered her feet. But Lucan told her she would probably be going barefoot by the end of the night, and she cringed at the thought. He had dictated her shoes to her as he had dictated the white linen. She had wished to put one of her gray work gowns over the skirt but he forbade it, insisting it would be much too hot and uncomfortable. She opted for putting as much as she could on, but only ended up with the thickest bodice she could find, made of sturdy wool. There was too much air about her legs, though, she thought.

Lucan had taken one look at her and laughed, "You look like a Christian, still." He had said. She hadn't known whether to take this as a compliment or not.

Lucan had chosen his lightest pair of breeches and a white tunic, and already he was itching to take it off. His eyes lingered on the Woads, envious of their free forms and bare skin.

"I thought you said you didn't have religion." Catherine commented, trying to get her mind off of her clothing.

"I did. When will you Christians understand? This isn't about religion; it's about fun and rejoicing for what we have. Tonight is just special, whether it's magical or not. Plants may be more potent, who knows? It doesn't matter." said Lucan, pulling Catherine out onto the main road, almost able to see the bonfire lighted ahead.

The sun was just setting and the orange colors of the sky made the small inferno blur, as if it continued into the heavens. Lucan sighed, thinking this was his favorite time of year.

The girl was silent and Lucan looked down to see what had bothered her. But Catherine simply looked up at the sky, biting her lip in contemplation.

"How about you try to think of it as a practical, beautiful night to gather herbs and medicines?" he teased.

She looked from the sky to him and shrugged, "Sure…"

"Don't worry, you can go to church to repent tomorrow."

She glared and he simply laughed, pulling her along further.

* * *

"Arthur, come, it will be good to take your mind off these problems." Guinevere prodded gently, wrapping her arms around her husband's shoulders. 

The King shrugged her off, shaking his head, "No, I need to get these messages out at sunrise or before and they won't get done by themselves." He said distractedly.

Guinevere's hand lingered on his shoulder and she sighed.

"You go on." He said, looking up over his shoulder at her, smiling gently.

She nodded her head, "I'll only be gone a candle mark."

He smiled and nodded, turning back to his work.

* * *

Lucan chuckled lightly at the hand puppets as they walked by, watching the two lash out at each other with swords made of cloth. The Woads had set up a make-shift theatre for the night, and he could also see several stands where the Woads had set up their wares to be sold and Lucan's fingers lingered on one near the theater that sold puppets. The festival had always made him revert back to being a child again. He blushed and smiled bashfully when he caught Catherine giving him an appraising look. 

Catherine was more interested in the glittering jewelry pieces and wooden carvings. She picked up the carved image of a bear, smiling as she turned it around.

"Would you like it?" Lucan asked from behind her.

Catherine turned quickly, still holding the bear, right into Lucan's chest. She laughed and shook her head, "Oh no. It would be a waste of money."

She smiled and put it down, walking away. Lucan watched her walk off, pausing, before following after her.

* * *

When Catherine rose from the blanket, some time later when the two were both fed and watered, Lucan reached up, pulling her back down on the blanket.

"Wait!" Lucan said, feeling Catherine almsot fall on top of him.

"What? I want to go with everyone else." She said, sounding slightly annoyed, though she was still in good spirits..

"You have to watch everyone go in, just once and then we can go." He said, standing next to her.

Catherine raised an eyebrow in question, about to ask just what they were going to watch when Lucan pointed over her shoulders. Catherine turned and her eyes widened at the light she saw. Hundreds of torches, like little fire bugs, scampered into the forest. From the top of the hill, the little lights were still visible even in the dense thicket, lighting up the wood. The voices of the many people buzzed like bees and Catherine sighed in contentment but was soon giddy to run after them.

"Come on, can we go now?" she asked, looking down at Lucan like child as she stood up.

He laughed and nodded, reaching down to take off his shoes. She slipped off her shoes as well and Lucan laughed when he looked back and caught her at it.

"What? It'll be more comfortable." She said, wrinkling her nose.

Lucan only shook his head and stood, slipping off his tunic.

When Catherine looked up her eyes widened before flickering away to the forest. _Well,_ she thought,_ you could certainly see he was a soldier._ Catherine looked back at the well formed chest for just a second and felt her face flush as Lucan looked down at her.

"Ready?" he asked, tying his hair back in a thin piece of leather. Catherine hadn't thought of bringing something to hold her hair with and suddenly felt even more self-conscious about the state of her appearance.

She nodded her head, unable to speak for a moment. She cleared her throat and forced a smile, "Yeah. Yes. Let's go."

Lucan smiled, looking more like a little boy then ever and grabbed her hand, puling her along at first. It wasn't long before Catherine had pulled ahead,

* * *

**A/N:** Enter Guinevere and sexual tension! Only one review!? AH! Oh well. 


	12. Festival, Part 2

**A/N:** Yay! Another update! Thanks so much for reviewing!

**Chapter Eleven:** Festival, Part Two

* * *

Catherine's chest heaved as she gulped in the humid air around her. The forest was not subject to the wind and the deeper she walked the hotter and heavier the air seemed to get. She smiled, reaching down for a purple flower and placing it among the others in her woven purse. The dirt beneath her feet felt good, she had to admit and the dirt that now covered the hem of her skirt didn't bother her as much as the thought it would have. Ahead she could see lights burning, lighting her way back out of the wood, where everyone would converge to celebrate the end of the festival.

She stopped suddenly, and looked around. Where had Lucan gone? He had been right behind her all the way. She frowned and turned, wondering if he was simply farther behind. When she didn't see him, panic set in. She back tracked, stepping over stumps and logs a little more carelessly and less graceful than before.

"Lucan?!" she called, breathing even more heavily as she ran. She was not made for strenuous activity. She called his name again, a little louder and the tremor in her voice reverberated.

When large arms wound themselves on her shoulders she jumped and turned, her bag flying from her arm and onto the ground. She instantly went into defensive mode and thrashed as hard as she could against her attacker. But when she heard a deep laugh in her ear she growled and pushed him off.

"You…you should have seen your face!"

Catherine simply glared at Lucan, shrugging her shoulders straight. She grumbled and reached down, picking up the flowers and plants she had dropped. Lucan bent to help her, still laughing.

"It was not funny." She said, sniffling.

"Aw, c'mon Catherine, you have to know I would never just leave you." Lucan implored.

"Ha. You're acting very strange tonight. Perhaps I don't know."

Lucan helped her to stand, smiling softly. "It's supposed to be a night to let go and be at one with nature! Aren't you going to loosen up?" He said loudly, poking at Catherine playfully.

The young lady in question sighed and couldn't help but smile, pushing his finger away. When Lucan saw she was a little ticklish he poked at her stomach again. Catherine squeaked and pushed at his arm more forcefully.

"Stop! Come on, I want to get to the fire."

Lucan grabbed her hand, laughing, "As you wish, My Lady." He declared, pulling her along.

Some dirt had smudged on their faces, hands, and knees. Catherine's hair was a tangled mess, but she couldn't care less… She happened to be more preoccupied with the sweat on Lucan's chest and back. So preoccupied she almost tripped over her own feet.

"Did you get many flowers?" she asked, trying to make conversation as they maneuvered through the thicket.

"A few." He said with a smile.

Catherine made a move to reach for his leather pouch and he simply knocked her hand away.

"Ah, ah, ah. No peaking until the ending ceremony."

She wrinkled her nose in annoyance, smiling at him. He copied the face before laughing.

"How much further?" she whined and he shook his head.

"Whiner." He murmured, earning a small slap to his arm.

* * *

Guinevere stood at the lighted pyre, her skin sweating at the heat from it. But she took pleasure in the earthy, dirty state of her body.

"_Brothers, sisters."_ She began, in their Woadish language.

Catherine wrinkled her nose and stepped closer to Lucan, taking his hand, "What is she saying?" she asked in a whisper. Lucan leaned down, whispering the translation in her ear, though he only managed to get the gist of what they were saying, not understanding all of it himself.

"_It is an honor to be with you on this eve, the solstice of summer. It is a night when the spirits visit us on the earth and plants acquire magic, a night when one can be with nature. No matter what you may believe, it is a night for celebration and the hope the rest of the year be plentiful and peaceful! Let the ending begin!"_

The people mostly the Woads, lifted their arms and called out, yelling and yelping. Everyone emptied their sacks, placing the plants at the tables around the fire. Lucan had collected far more than Catherine had, and she wondered if he had picked up anything resembling a plant. Her pile was much smaller, but more colorful and when Lucan nodded in approval she smiled.

When the instruments began to play again, Lucan laughed and took Catherine's hands, dragging her around the fire in a half dance, half run. Lucan laughed loudly, letting one hand go and fly off above his head. Catherine's mouth hung open in surprise and amusement, and she laughed along with Lucan, letting her own arm fling into the air.

* * *

When at last they were too exhausted to even lift their arms, Lucan, Catherine, and others fell to the ground, looking up at the night sky. The elders had allowed the fire to die down to a pile of embers and the tiny pin-pricks of light were brilliant.

"There's the little bear." Catherine pointed, moving closer to Lucan, "My mother showed it to me when I was little."

"The strong man and snake should be up there somewhere…." Lucan murmured back, feeling sleepy.

The lay in silence for a while, looking up at the inky black above them, until Catherine heard the deep breathing and a light snore from Lucan made her look over at the man beside her.

"Lucan!" she whispered harshly, not wanting to disturb anyone else, "You can't fall asleep! You have to walk me back." Catherine said alarmed, rolling over and propping herself up with an elbow, her face hovering above his.

"Mm hmm. I'm just resting my eyes." He murmured, his eyes opening just a little.

"Please…please don't fall asleep."

"You'll have to keep me awake somehow."

Catherine sighed lightly, frustrated. Lucan only laughed, moving an arm behind his head. His other slipped around Catherine, hugging her to his chest suddenly. Her eyebrows rose in alarm at the bare skin under her hands, but she relaxed at his gentle rubbings on her back. She hesitated before wrapping her arm around his waist and letting her head fall on his chest, feeling it move up and down beneath her cheek.

"Just a quick nap." He murmured.

This made Catherine come to her senses and sat up, shaking her head.

"No, no. I will not fall asleep on your dirty, sweaty chest. I have to get home or my aunt and uncle will wonder where I am."

Lucan groaned and looked up, sighing, still only half awake.

Catherine shook his shoulders. "Please?" she asked, scooting nearer to him, taking her hands away and putting her palms together pleadingly.

Lucan paused for a moment, smiling lightly at Catherin before sitting up, "Very well, let's go."

He groaned like an old man as he got to his feet, he looked about the pile of bodies and found their blanket, picking up their discarded clothing. Catherine followed him eagerly, pulling on her shoes and starting toward the road with him at her side.

* * *

They reached the house and Lucan sighed, looking even more tired. "Here we are, My Lady. You're abode."

"Thank you." She smiled and looked up at him, unsure of what to do.

"Any time, but of course." He replied and looked down the street. "Now to make it to my own bed."

Catherine hesitated, unsure of whether to take this as a slight indication to share a bed with her or –

_Eck_, she thought at that fleeting notion of what he was suggesting. Of course he wouldn't. She was much too tired to be thinking.

"I'm sure you'll do fine. Just follow the road and don't fall asleep on your feet."

Lucan laughed, nodding. He started to turn away and then paused, turning back to the girl in front of him. Without a well-needed second to pause, to wonder if it was the proper thing to do, Lucan had leaned in and pressed his lips to Catherine's.

Her eyes widened in shock before she closed them, wondering if kisses were supposed to feel like this…

And then a sharp pain shot through her and she pulled back suddenly.

Lucan had tried, and failed, to run his fingers through her hair and had ended up getting caught in a nasty tangle. Catherine winced and reached up, prying his fingers from her hair.

Blushing furiously Lucan took his hand back, clearing his throat. He took a large step back, biting his lip.

Catherine rubbed the spot at her head and watched him retreat…retreat was the word for it.

"I… uh… good night…" he stuttered.

"Good-night." Catherine replied, looking humiliated. She rushed into her house a moment later.

* * *

A/N: ooooh! Dun, dun, dun!


	13. Insights and a Brother

A/N: Thanks so much reviewers and those who write King Arthur stories that inspire me. Without you, this would never get done, hehe. Enjoy!

**Chapter Twelve: Insights and a Brother**

* * *

Catherine's eyes flickered open slowly, her eyes adjusting to the dull glow of light filtering through the window. She stared up at tiny cracks in the ceiling, at a loss for one moment, trying to remember why she felt so exhausted. Her face contorted into a frown, worrying her lip between her teeth. When she moved a leg she winced. Her body felt sore; she hadn't felt this way since her first night of work.

To her left, she could hear Ariana's soft snores and she could feel the gentle movement of the blanket as the girl breathed deeply.

As she became more aware, she began to recollect the prior night. Pushing her tangled hair from her face, she slowly remembered the festival; the searching, dancing, the kissing –

– Catherine she sat up slowly, rubbing her head._ I had too much to drink, if I'm thinking thoughts such as these…_

She swung her legs over the side of her bed, reveling in the coolness of the morning on her skin. She briefly wondered what time it was, and then remembered it was Sunday and there would be no need for her to be at the tavern until the afternoon. She sighed lightly, wondering what she could do to preoccupy her time until church…

Breakfast is in order, she thought, rising to make her way toward the kitchen. But then, suddenly her eyes widened and she halted. What had she done? What had _he_ done? The memory hit her hard, and she touched her cheeks to feel the heat of them and moved to touch her lips…remembering the – She looked around, as if making sure someone hadn't heard her thoughts.

Silently she stood, folding her blanket back into place like she did every morning. She dressed quickly, pulling on the most modest gown she could find and her good work boots. She walked out into the main room of the house, her eyes flickering from corner to corner, positive there were handprints over her face, and not wanting her aunt and uncle to awaken and find her a…a…harlot. She almost snorted at the ridiculousness of the thought.

She reached up to feel her hair and winced, walking from the main room to the water basin, grabbing the wooden comb. She dipped it into the water and began to run it through her hair, wincing at the tangles.

But as she attempted to control her hair, she couldn't control the thoughts that raced through her mind. What would he say? Did this mean something? Was he…expecting something from her? Catherine whimpered when the comb snagged and she worked through it, worked through them all, actually, until her hair was smooth again. She braided it back and sighed. What now? Perhaps she was making too much of a little good night kiss.

Ah, but a kiss, especially that kiss, has connotations that can befuddle any sort of rational thinking in a girl. That was a kiss with Lucan and a first kiss…her first kiss. It was supposed to be meaningful, she decided, and so she was not making a big deal out of it.

She sat at the kitchen table and rested her chin in her hand, waiting for the sounds of her family to stir…then they would to church and hopefully God would forgive the thoughts of Lucan running through her mind.

* * *

Lucan groaned and grabbed his head when he heard a trunk slam. It pounded at his head, making him want to curl back into a ball and nurse whatever wound he had acquired on his head yesterday. He could hear the floor above him readying for the day and hated them for getting up so early. Sitting up slowly, his eyes slowly adjusted to the bright light.

It was Sunday, he remembered now, and the Christian boys would be heading off to church. He scratched his chest and then stretched his arms as he stood, letting out a lion of a yawn. He stumbled into some breeches and a shirt and felt his stomach give a resounding 'growl', spurring him to the kitchens.

When he emerged he was a much happier young man, and breakfast had given him time to think. He smiled at the thought of Catherine, feeling ten times lighter when her face was in his head. However, being a reasonable lad, Lucan shook his head, running his fingers through his long hair. He thought over the possibilities of what Catherine meant to him. A passing fancy, perhaps, as now would be the worse time to consider getting a girl. And he hadn't ever had a…lover.

Even the thought of that word made him flush and clear his throat to hide a nervous chuckle. He had always believed himself too young, too…noble, to have a lover. But many young men his age had. He knew Thaddeus and Baldric hadn't hesitated and Leon drew girls to him like a moth to a flame. But Lucan had always been quiet and unassuming, hardly believing anyone could be interested in him.

So, then, Catherine couldn't be, could she? But, until the rather unfortunate fingers-running-through-hair catastrophe she had been responding. That had to be a good sign.

Stretching his right arm across his chest, Lucan headed out of the soldiers quarters and toward the tavern, the thought of seeing one particular person on his mind.

* * *

Vanora raised a shrewd eyebrow at the lollygagging girl who drifted through the tavern, looking far too thoughtful than a girl of that age ought to. A glazed and confused looked gave her the look of someone who had gone mad, and rather than hearing the costumers, Vanora could tell that Catherine simply went through the motions, hopefully getting the right orders to the right people.

Catherine's mind was far off, still in church. It seemed Father Ananias had known what fears were on Catherine's mind. He had read from the First Corinthians, chapter six and focused on the last verses and it felt like he had been speaking directly to her. She had closed her eyes in church and let the words wash over her thoughts.

While she knew it had only been a kiss, she could not help but think about Lucan in that different, private way. She could see him as he was last night, bare-chested and glowing, with his strong arms and chest –

Biting her lip she felt a flush rise on her face and looked about, hoping no one could read her thoughts. She felt a chill run through her body and took a deep breath to clear her mind. She cleared the table, bringing the dishes to the back. She settled her hands into the warm, soapy water and let them rest there for a moment before snapping out of it and going back to work.

Vanora was sure to fire her today, Catherine thought when she promptly broke a dish she was drying.

Catherine had decided, wiping off a table a little bit later, that even after one kiss, she knew it would not work out. The cynical, over working mind of a girl who had never really had a significant other was overly imaginative and for the few hours she had been at work and she had already come to the conclusion she liked the thought of Lucan better than the execution. What was the fanatic hurry of girls who wished to find a man, ensnare him and marry him quick? She had no time, especially with her cousin's injury, which was not taken care of by her flighty cousin.

When she heard the door open she was knocked from her reverie and picked up the stew and ale she was supposed to be serving, make her way into the front.

* * *

Lucan smiled, seeing Catherine carrying out a large bowl. He made his way quickly toward her, without pausing or seeing her confused face. She hadn't seen him yet, he knew. She looked up startled and he smiled at her shock. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could say anything he had grabbed the bowl in her hand.

"Let me help you." He said and smiled at her.

"Oh, I…thank you…" she said, and the haziness in her voice made him raise one eyebrow but he looked around.

She caught his questioning look and started, coming out of her shock.

"Over there, the first on the right." She pointed.

He smiled at her as he walked to the table, placing the stew in front of the patron, who thanked him. Lucan made his way back over to Catherine quickly.

"Can you take a break for a few moments?" he asked gently, speaking in low tones as to not embarrass her.

Catherine looked up at him, startled and he smiled at her, mistaking it for excitement. He implored her with his eyes, looking toward the back. She opened her mouth and shook her head.

"Uh, no. I'm…really busy. Sorry." She said, taking a step back.

He frowned and nodded, "Oh…"

He felt a weird jolt in his stomach, but brushed the negative thoughts in his head aside. Perhaps she was busy. Catherine looked up at him and felt a pang of regret inside for having hurt him.

"Well, that's fine." He said with a smile, taking a step back.

She took a step toward him and bit her lip, "Well," she said after another second of thought, "maybe, just a second?"

Lucan gave a small smile and nodded, "That's all I need." He said happily and grabbed her hand leading her to the back. She set her ale down quickly on a table and held on to him with both her hands…

Within the seconds he was leading her to the back, the warmth of her hand making him smile even wider. When he got her to the back he pulled her in front of him. She frowned in confusion and he found it rather endearing…

But now that he actually had her in front of him…he forgot what he wanted to say. Why had he even come to the tavern? Deciding not to look like a complete ass he made up a reason and swallowed hard.

"I was wondering, if tonight you'd like to take a walk with me?"

Catherine's face was blank before she let a small smile come to her face. Lucan smiled back and looked hopeful. Smiling was a good sign, right? But as he looked closer he could see something didn't quite meet her eyes. When she was silent for a full minute he shook her hands a little, still holding them.

"Hello? Lucan here, Catherine, are you awake?" he asked and she started a little, looking up at him.

"Oh, yes. I mean, yes I'm awake."

"I asked if you wanted to perhaps meet with me tonight. Take a walk or maybe sup together?"

Catherine nodded, "Yes, I heard you…"

"And?" he asked, bending down to catch her eye.

She hesitated and then opened her mouth. "I don't think it would be a good idea."

It took Lucan a second to register that there was a definite 'no' in there and he raised his eyebrows, letting go of her hands suddenly. The loss of warmth was very noticeable.

"Oh…okay…too busy?" he asked naively.

She shook her head and felt a blush come to her face.

"Oh, no, I'm free I just…I mean I don't think I can because…"

"Because why?" Lucan asked, not liking the strange, confused feeling inside of his stomach.

She shrugged, unable to answer and he frowned. It was exceedingly puzzling and he didn't know how to react.

"I mean, I thought…with last night…" he trailed off, feeling his own face heat up.

Catherine felt like she might die of embarrassment. Why was Lucan so maddeningly nice? Shouldn't he be angry at her? She wanted him to be angry at her.

"The festival was beautiful, Lucan, and thank you for taking me. But that kiss…I mean it…" she couldn't believe what she was about to say. "It was like…like kissing a brother."

Lucan felt his stomach drop out of his back side and his eyes widened, taking a step back from Catherine. He couldn't help but let out a laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

"Oh…well…sorry." He apologized, looking shocked.

Catherine was unsure how to take his reaction. He looked shocked, but also relieved and apologetic. She didn't know how to take him.

"No, I mean it was great, it was bad. I just…don't feel that way..." but inside, her head was screaming at herself to STOP.

Lucan let these words sink over him and he looked up at the ceiling, unsure of what to say. Why did it seem he was always being kicked in the foot by this girl? Well…not today, he thought. He let out a hearty laugh, hoping it sounded genuine.

"Catherine, I wasn't asking you in a romantic sense. We're friends, aren't we? I just wanted to see if you would care to get something to eat and maybe take a walk." Lucan lied with a smile on his face.

Catherine's face turned as red as a beat and she felt her heart hit against her ribs. "Oh…oh goodness…I thought…"

"I know what you thought, but I agree. We are just _friends_, it was a good night kiss." He had to grind this out of his teeth, but shrugged and took a step back, looking about the kitchen.

"Oh," she laughed nervously, "Then, that's good, I guess." She said and also looked away.

"Yeah, good. Well, I'll leave you to work, then." He said, smiling at her before exiting.

He passed by the tables and saw the entrance clearly, pushing through a few new patrons to get outside and fast. The tavern felt stifling. He cleared his throat and turned, looking down the side streets, wondering what to do. He supposed he could go the stables and train. But it was Sunday and no one would be there to spar. He hadn't thought he would be coming from the tavern so soon. Or, if he was, it would be to shop for supper supplies… He felt his face heat up again, it seemed blushing today was an affliction he wouldn't be able to be rid of soon.

He marched toward the soldiers' quarters and shut the door to his room softly, leaning against it. That had not gone the way he wanted…

_A brother?!_ He thought with a frown. How could she think that? He hadn't intended that kiss to be brotherly…but he hadn't especially planned it either. Maybe if he hadn't hurt her head with his idiotic fingers, or maybe if he hadn't drank so much wine and walked her home…

_Agh,_ he thought,_ it won't matter much anyway…we'll be off soon…_

He plopped down onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling, while a girl in a tavern was hitting her head against the counter tops.

* * *

18 Flee fornication. Every sin that a man doeth is without the body; but he that committeth fornication sinneth against his own body.

19 What? know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own?

20 For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's.

Those are the bible verses spoken of.


	14. The Gift

**A/N:** Thanks so much for reviewing! I'm glad someone is enjoying the story. A bit longer of a chapter. I enjoyed writing it. It's looking like this project is going to span quite a bit. We're no where near the juicy stuff.

**Chapter 13: The Gift**

* * *

…_One Month Later_

The late summer was flaring like a great fire. The troops rode their horses through the field nearby, sweat rolling down their backs and brows under the heavy armor that they wore. Only the very few talented ones remained on horse-back, sword and shield in hand. Many of the young men were of foot, sparring with each other violently.

Lucan had never been one of the special boys chosen to ride horse back. Normally he was restricted to the ground as militia. Today, instead of his usual militia post he was on archery. Small human-shaped targets were posed near the tree line across, and each boy had their own target. Galahad shouted orders to "Fire!" every few seconds and the boys were quick to reload and do as ordered or be forced into running several lengths up and down the side of the wall. At the end, the arrows hit would be counted up and one was either praised or chastised for the work.

"Leon, good!" Galahad shouted, "All of you, good. Again! Fire!"

Lucan bit his lip, a new habit he had picked up. It was hard concentrating with the sound of hooves and the shouts of men in his ears, but he knew the real thing would be twice as bad and he bit his lip to keep him concentrated on that one point. One thing, was all he needed to have to keep himself sane. He wiped the sweat away from his eyes with the back of his shirt, only to remember the heavy armor on it would stop him and he used the palm of his hand, almost too late to fire the next set.

He needed a break, soon. His arms were tiring and the small of his back had a small twinge in it that he knew would later harden into tense knots. Just a bit farther…he pushed his muscles and his mind…just a little more.

At last, when he felt like he would pass out if he was forced to stay there another minute, he heard a bell clang. Everyone one the line dropped their weapons and fell back, staring up at the hot sun. They could hear Galahad laughing at them.

"If after a month, you're still tired. Obviously we're not doing enough." He stated, looking thoughtful but with a tiny smirk.

No one groaned. No one said anything. They knew better than to show a sign of disapproval, lest the knights actually decided to bump up the training. Most felt like they were back in school again. Others, who hadn't known school, simply knew to follow the other boys and keep their mouths shut even if their work ethic insisted them to become better.

Lucan was one of those boys, looking over at the others always, following their lead. He wanted to be good, but he wanted to fit in. It was stupid. Maybe it was fitting in that made him unable to make it to cavalry.

Once or twice he had seen Bors look his way, only to frown and focus on the troops in front of him. He had so much to prove, but he began to think the opportunity to do so was out of reach. What opportunity was he waiting for? Lucan thought miserably. This was it. This was the life he had chosen and he had to make his own opportunities…

But not today. Today all he wanted was a warm bath. He rose to his feet, the muscles in his arms and the cramping in his legs hindering him just a bit. Just as he straightened his back he heard his name being called and he turned, seeing Bors waving to him. Inwardly groaning he made his way over, keeping his face stoic. He looked up at the big, bald man. Time had not been kind to Bors and he looked as if he had gone soft, muscles no longer what they had been in his days of battle. But he was still fierce.

"Yes, sir?" Lucan asked, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked up at the man.

Bors dismounted and grabbed the horse by the reins, beginning to walk back to the town, motioning Lucan to follow.

"Lucan, arrows and swords do not fit you." He began, looking over at the boy. "Would you like to work with the axe? Private lessons, I mean."

Lucan's eyebrows rose.

"You don't have to decide anything now, think over it and if you decide, tell me tomorrow and we'll start. Every day, an hour or two after regular training."

Lucan nodded in understanding and watched Bors move ahead to the stables while Lucan stayed back, scratching the back of his head. That was unexpected. It would be hard, he knew, and would lessen his time to work or rest…but this was that opportunity.

* * *

"Any word from the West?" Gawain asked his King, folding his arms over his chest. 

Arthur nodded his head, "Unfortunately, they say they cannot help. And I understand. They are a new country as well…"

Galahad let out a soft sigh, "I think we'll be…fine."

"Fine?" Bors asked in his gruff voice. "We've got over one hundred _boys_. Whoever attacks us will be far better prepared."

"More men does not necessarily mean skill and skill is what wins battles." Gawain retorted.

Bors nodded, "But I bet the numbers would help."

Galahad looked to Arthur. "Do we know exactly who is attacking?"

"South Saxons, their leader is King Ælle." Arthur answered, rubbing his cheeks with the palm of his hand, "I haven't had any communication with him, but they seem to be fortifying the old castle in Anderitum, as if setting up a permanent fort. No one lives near there, and I've ordered the evacuation of the farms and small villages in that area."

Bors sat in one of the wooden chairs around the round table. "So we don't know when they'll attack."

Arthur shook his head. "No, but I know when we will."

Gawain's eyes snapped up. "You're not really thinking of acting first. If they don't attack us what is the need?"

Arthur took in a deep breath. "The need is to cement ourselves as a country. Whether or not they wish to attack doesn't matter. They are invading either way. Where there are some Saxons, there are more and they won't rest until they have all they want."

"When?" Galahad asked.

"Just under a year, at the most. You have months to prepare, knights."

* * *

Lucan groaned in the tub, resting his head back. He allowed the heat, even though it made him sweat all the more. The soothing effect on his muscles was worth it and he sighed, closing his eyes. He didn't think, didn't move. He had been waiting for this all day and was going to enjoy the quiet while he had it. Only the soft pounds of footsteps above him of other men walking around were heard and they lulled him into a meditative state with their steady pounding. 

Until, quite suddenly, there was a swift pounding on his door and then the sound of it opening. His eyes snapped open and he looked up. "Thaddeus, if that's you, no I do not want to meet your cousin and her friend. Leon, if it's you, then yes I would like some of that special tea you make. Anyone else, get out, I'm taking a bath."

When he didn't hear an answer, Lucan frowned and turned toward the doorway. His eyes widened and he sat up, looking around frantically for a towel.

There, standing in shock, was Catherine, holding a tray I her hands. Her eyes were wide and she stood silent. Lucan felt his face start to flush and narrowed his eyes.

"Could you turn around, maybe?" he asked in a humored voice and she jumped at it, quickly following direction.

When he was no longer in her sight, she seemed to find her voice. "Oh, Lucan, I'm so sorry! But Ariana told me today was the day you celebrate your birthday, and I asked how you knew it was your birthday. Of course, she told me that you didn't _really_ know, that it was just a place holder because you never knew your family. And then I asked how they celebrated it and they said they really never had, but they always had cake. And since you were working I decided I should –"

A hand over her mouth stopped her suddenly and she tried to move her head forward and away from him. Lucan let her go at that and sighed, "Don't you ever stop talking."

Catherine frowned and turned… She almost dropped the cake at the sight of Lucan's half naked body only covered by a towel. She felt the heat rush to her face and tried to force a casual smile. She held up the cake in her hands. It was nothing special. There were no decorations, simply a plain cake. Lucan looked at Catherine's face and then down to food.

She smiled at him, "Well, do you like it?"

"Yes." He said simply and took it from her, setting it on a nearby table and moving to his bed, pulling out a pair of breeches and a tunic, slipping on the shirt and removing his towel, causing Catherine to turn on her heels and make a sound of slight disgust. That sound did not explain the redness to her face.

When she felt she could turn, she did and cleared her throat. He turned and raised his eyebrows at her, "What?"

"Well, nothing. I just thought a 'Thank you, Catherine' or 'Wow! This is great!' was in order." She said.

"Wow. This is great. Thank you, Catherine." Lucan said, dead panned.

Catherine would have laughed, if he had meant it in a joking way. But the look in Lucan's eyes made her sigh and she nodded, "Your welcome. Well, I'll leave you to it, then." She said, hurt registering on her face.

She turned to leave and Lucan groaned, "Catherine, I'm sorry." He said, "It was a tough day."

With a thin smile, Catherine turned and nodded, "Yeah, I can tell."

He flinched at her words and went silent for a few seconds in thought. His irritability had been growing over the past few weeks and he couldn't quite put a finger on the problem. It wasn't Catherine, he knew. Their friendship had been strained for a little bit after that awkward kiss but when Catherine finally got back to her old self, of course Lucan followed, coming around in his silent, forgiving way. They could be found every other night or so together walking, eating, talking, or fighting. Other nights, Lucan was either working at the tavern with Catherine or drinking with the other boys. Catherine was always working.

"Anything new today?" Catherine asked, bringing Lucan out of his thoughts.

He shrugged, "No." he said at first, and then remembered what Bors had said and relayed the information.

"Wow, well, that's something, isn't it? And you were worried at not excelling!" She said happily, "It's a good birthday present. Oh, and speaking of –"

The door to Lucan's room was thrown open rather suddenly and a dark, long haired boy poked his head in, raising his eyebrows in sight of Catherine.

"Leon, what's wrong, aren't you going to … oh…" Thaddeus' voice came from behind the black haired boy that Catherine could now identify as Leon.

The door opened a bit more and Thaddeus and Leon stood in the doorway, grinning ear to ear. Lucan looked over at Catherine and then to the boys.

"Sorry Luc, didn't know you had…company." Leon said, ever the polite, timid one.

Thad, on the other hand snorted, "Maybe we should… leave you two alone?"

"Thaddeus Bailey, watch your thoughts or I'll tell your mother on you." Catherine said, pointing a finger at him.

The smile on Thaddeus' slid off for a moment before he smiled, "Ah, Catherine, we were just joking. We know you're too virgi– ouch!"

Leon elbowed his friend in the stomach, gritting his teeth. Catherine felt her face flush and sighed, turning back to Lucan.

"I have your present in the tavern, come by whenever you can."

Lucan nodded, "Sure."

Catherine took it as a 'yes' and smiled softly at him before turning and pushing past the two boys to leave the room.

Thaddeus waved, "'bye Cath!" he called and turned back to the room, laughing.

"Up for going out Luc?" Leon asked, ignoring the blonde boy next to him.

Looking down at the cake Lucan thought it over for a moment before nodding, setting it aside and grabbing a belt, promising silently to stop by the tavern later.

* * *

Catherine's fingers tapped along the empty plank of table in front of her, in the empty tavern around her. Empty except for her. She sighed after another long moment of nothing and plopped her head down on her hand, resting on the table. She watched the door intensely, hardly blinking, willing for it to open. A tiny wood box lay next to her, untouched and unclaimed.

Lucan hadn't come. Not even a foot inside the tavern. It was strange, she had thought she would have seen him right after leaving, walking in with Thaddeus and Leon, but she realized they must have gone somewhere else to have their fun. It left Catherine searching the room and starring at the door much too much during the night.

She frowned and raised her head from the cool wood of the table and stared at the door. She went over their conversation in his room, knowing the last thing she had said was to stop by the tavern. _It should not come as a shock,_ Catherine thought. _Men are friends with men and tolerate the women they do not love._

_Perhaps he i__s just running late_…she thought a moment later with hope. But when she realized that the tavern had been closed for several hours, and it must have already been well into the deep of night, she sat back and then stood, stretching her cramped legs.

She frowned and went to the back, closing up shop before leaving the front, locking the big bolt behind her.

* * *

Lucan groaned as he turned onto his stomach, looking up at the shaded window of his room. The shade had opened just a sliver and a stripe of light fell on Lucan's eyes. He stretched away from the light and turned the other way on his side. There was a twinge in his stomach and he frowned. 

The sensation wasn't hunger and it wasn't sickness. It was like he was forgetting something. He sighed and sat up, swinging his legs onto the floor, deciding not to think on it too much. He listened for the sound of footsteps, and upon hearing none frowned. He stood and looked out the window, but saw that the sun was just rising and there was no soul to be found on the streets outside. He relaxed back on the bed and ran his fingers through his sun brightened long hair.

He grabbed Dagonet's axe from under the bed, handling it carefully, almost as if he was frightened of it. He gently placed it on the bed and slowly unfolded the cloth protecting it. He turned for a moment to clean his face and dress.

He went to breakfast first, carrying the axe close and never letting it out of his sight. Then, he was off to the stables, mucking out the stalls. Every now and then he would run to check that the axe was still in its place against the door of the empty first stall.

These were all welcomed distractions. He still felt as though he had forgotten something very important, which was unlike him.

He finished mucking out the last stall and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He turned around and his heart dropped. He ran to the doorway of the stables and looked around. The axe was not where he had put it. Biting his lip he felt the sweat on his forehead start up again and suddenly his entire body was hot. He looked around frantically, opening the first stall, causing the horse inside to snort and toss its head. Lucan backed out and turned, feeling as though he could cry.

He turned and looked out the exit and he felt relief spread through him.

There, holding the axe in her hands and grinning was Catherine. Her dark hair was tied loosely back as if she had just woken up and hurried out the door. Once the shock of seeing her and the relief of finding the axe had worn off, anger and frustration swelled over him and he approached her with a few long strides. His fists were clenched.

Her eyes widened and she acted as though she might take a step back. The devious smile slipped off her face and then returned when he stopped in front of her, hands across his chest like a petulant child.

"I saw you walking by," she explained with a shrug, "and I thought that I would follow."

"And steal my belongings?" he growled.

Catherine shrugged, "If you see it that way. I see as more…scaring the living daylights out of you. Call it payback."

"Payback?" he asked, frowning.

"For not showing up last night." She answered.

Seeing his bewildered expression she gave a short laugh, devoid of humor, and shook her head.

"Hmm, I'm surprised." She said, and with difficulty, for the weapon was heavy, held out the axe to him. "You were supposed to stop by the tavern last night. For your birthday present. Remember?"

Lucan felt his heart drop and winced, taking the axe.

"Oh, now you remember." She said with a smug smile, but the meanness of it didn't quite meet her eyes. She shook her head and reached into her small pack, pulling out a small token. She held it up to Lucan and he took it from her hesitantly after setting Dagonet's axe on the ground.

He let the small present coil in his palm. It was a metal chain, fashioned with what looked like polished iron. The tiny links formed a long, good sized necklace and he frowned, looking at Catherine in question.

"That ring, around your neck. It must be important, but all you have for it is that leather strip and it's looking a little ragged." She said with a smile, reaching out to touch the string around his neck.

Lucan's mouth was open, as if he was trying to speak, but couldn't. He felt a shiver run up his neck where she touched him.

"Cat got your tongue?" she asked, taking her hand back.

He thought the phrase fit better now than it ever had.

"Thank you." He said suddenly, finding his voice and looked up at Catherine.

She felt a blush on her face a shrugged, finding it hard to be mad at a boy who could make her feel like she was the best person in the world with two little words.

"It's nothing, really." She said quickly with a shrug. "You don't even have to wear it, if you don't wish to."

But Lucan was already taking off the ring that hung around his neck and trying to untie the knot he had put in the leather long ago. It would not budge and instead he broke the leather in half, sliding the ring off and on to the new chain. Catherine felt her face flush, but in pleasure, as he put it around his neck.

"Thank you." He said again, smiling at her, pausing, wondering whether to tell her or not.

"It was … Dagonet's ring." He explained, and her face lit up with some recognition of the name. She had heard it enough around the tavern, either by Vanora or the knights. Only in hushed whispers and never more than just a sad mutter of a name.

"I'm glad it has proper adornment, now."

Lucan nodded, but it slowly turned into a shake of 'no'.

Catherine frowned, "What?

"I'm sorry." He said finally. "I've been an arse the passed few weeks."

"Oh, I know you're just stressed. I heard Vanora talking to Bors about when you are all leaving."

Lucan nodded, "A few months. Next week the knights are taking the most promising boys out for scouting training. And I really want to go."

The unfinished insecurity made Catherine nod and she reached up to rub his shoulder.

"Don't worry. Just work hard this week and you'll get the opportunity."

He smiled and nodded, looking the front.

"You should probably get going, practice is going to start soon." Catherine said, reading his thoughts.

He nodded and smiled at her again. "Thanks so much for this." He said, reaching down to grab the axe before racing from the stables to make it to the field.

Catherine looked up at the ceiling and sighed, shaking her head. She felt silly for the speeding up of her heart and the giggle that wedged itself in her throat when she thought of Lucan. She turned and made her way towards the street, looking back to see him disappearing from sight.

* * *

Please review, thank you! 


	15. Dreams

**A/N**: This chapter was complete fun to write and it was very easy. I hope you like it too. I think I'm getting better, anyone else think that?

**Chapter Fourteen: Dreams**

* * *

… _And Another Month Later…_

"No, no, no. Lucan! We've been over this. You have to let your hands relax right before impact, just a split second, and it will hit harder. Otherwise, you're working against it. And use the haft. The small handle of a sword is their downfall; you can use the bit, the poll, and the haft of an axe, not a sword."

Lucan took a great, heaving breath, picking himself up off the ground. The battle axe was beginning to get heavy in his hand, after hours of working with it. His hands were raw and chapped after hours of working with it and he grimaced when he gripped it tighter. Sweat poured down his brow, the full armor he was wearing not helping his fatigue. Night was coming on quickly, the sun was pouring into his eyes it was so low, and he was miserably hot. The places where his clothes didn't cover were chaffing from the metal ribbing of his armor.

Bors, however old he might be now, was looking fine. Sweat may have been covering him but he was calm and indifferent to any pain he might be feeling. Lucan had managed to slice him across the arm, but Bors had dismissed it as a scratch. This didn't make Lucan feel any better about his ability with the axe.

"Alright, what have you learned today?"

"The haft is a weapon too." Lucan answered.

"Good, what else?"

"I can use the poll when taking on two attackers or an especially skilled warrior."

"Show me." Bors ordered, taking a step back and preparing his sword.

Lucan paused for a moment before attacking, keeping his swing around his midsection to keep it covered. Bors raised his sword straight to block, but the sheer force of Lucan's blow and the inertia kept the sword moving. While Bors was knocked off balance, Lucan brought the pointed butt of the axe back, using all his strength to stop it before hitting Bors in the chest.

Bors smiled, looking down at his chest and then back up to Lucan. "Good, we're done for the day." He sheathed his sword and tested his bloody left arm.

Lucan smiled back and dropped the sword to his side.

"He would be proud, I think." Bors continued, grabbing Lucan by the shoulder and steering him around to face the town.

Lucan sighed, looking at his feet as they walked, always reluctant. Bors watched him out of the corner of his eye and smiled.

"What was he really like? I mean, I know what I remember of him, but it might be mixed with what I've made up."

Lucan had never asked this before, funnily enough. He had skirted around it, finding out what he could without directly asking. It seemed a safer way to keep the glorified version in his head, safe and tucked away. It was a comfort he wasn't sure he wanted taken away.

"He was quiet, but could make me laugh. When it mattered, he was fierce. He loved helping people. He didn't like the killing part, but did it because it was necessary." Bors explained.

Lucan nodded, keeping his eyes focused on the ground. It was the answer he had been looking for, but he was slightly suspicious Bors was sugar coating a brutal life for him.

As if reading his mind, Bors patted the boy on the back. "Don't get a pretty view of him in your mind, though. He was like the rest of us sometimes: unhappy, temperamental, and irritable.

"Where did he get this?" Lucan asked, motioning toward the axe in his hand.

"It was his father's, from Sarmatia. And his father's, fathers, and so on, I suppose."

Biting his lip, Lucan gripped the axe tighter, "How am I doing with it?"

Bors let out a hearty laugh, "You want to know if you're as good as him. Well, no. Not yet. You will be soon, though. You're very close, I think another month or more and it will start to become second nature."

"I hope."

"I know it. So go get some rest. Or come to the tavern tonight. You need to get as much free time spent now as possible."

"When are we leaving?" Lucan asked suddenly. He had never been one to take his relationship with Vanora or Bors for granted. He had never asked about what was not his business but this, he felt, he needed to know.

"By the end of this year, I think. We had hoped it wouldn't be until next, but…given the way things are going it will be by winter. I wish it wasn't, that's a hard time to travel and we're going all the way South."

Lucan drank this information in, knowing Bors trusted him enough to give it. He wanted this trust; he had been working at it for over a month. In that course, Bors seemed more like a friend than an instructor, though the blows Lucan received to the head sometimes reminded him harshly.

Entering the town, Bors and Lucan went their separate ways, Lucan to take off the blasted armor that enclosed him, and Bors to his home. Making his way through the evening crowd, Lucan entered the soldiers' quarters, disrobing as he walked. In his room, he laid out his armor, cleaning it thoroughly with a dry rag and then hanging it up for tomorrow. Peeling off his sodden, sweaty clothing, he went to the water basin in his room, dipping another rag into the water and bathing quickly. He then lay out on his bed, bare body relaxing against the softness. He let the rest of the water he hadn't dried off evaporate in the warm air, only a few degrees cooler than outside. The sun would set soon, and when it did it would be pleasant in the room.

His eyes drifted closed, letting the drowsiness wash over him. But before he knew it, he was up and battling yet another dragon. Its angry red eyes glared at him and he could smell its disgusting breath. The yellow and green scales flew at him before he swung the axe up, almost hitting the dragon before it let out a great flap of its wings and rose into the air.

Catherine was behind him, laughing, yelling encouraging things like, "Don't let it get your buttocks!" or "I told you, you might get badly hurt at this!"

He frowned and turned, about to tell her to get off his back when he realized he was bare to the world, completely naked. Lucan had half a mind to cover up in front of Catherine, but it seemed like it didn't quite matter. He turned away from her and to the side, to see Thaddeus and Leon egging him on, while Baldric and the rest were laughing. Bors sighed, shaking his head disappointedly.

"Use the handle, not the blade! The handle will defeat the dragon!" He yelled and Lucan looked down at the wooden, leather-covered handle.

But he looked up quickly. Bors voice had not been the voice of Bors. It was a deeper, blunter voice. Lucan blinked and Bors had disappeared. In his place was a large man, bald, with a long scar over one eye. Lucan frowned and forgot about the dragon, turning to face the man.

Catherine and the men disappeared. Lucan didn't bother to look for them, but knew he should make sure Catherine was safe from the dragon.

"She will be fine. She is just worried about you." Dagonet said.

Lucan nodded, "Will everything else be well?"

The larger man smiled and reached out, putting a big, comforting hand on Lucan's shoulder. "I cannot say, no one can."

"You don't know if we'll win?" Lucan asked, frowning in disappointment.

Dagonet shook his head, "I am a man. Men do not know such things. But I know you will do great things. You have become a great man. Now, it's time to wake up."

Lucan jolted awake, sitting straight and rigid on his bed. He looked around the darkness of his room and then to his body, tangled in the blankets of his bed, still naked. He sighed and placed his feet on the floor. He reached on the ground for a pair of breeches and pulled them on. Walking to the water basin again he dunked his head, resting it there for a moment before standing straight.

He grabbed a towel and dried before grabbing a tunic. The room was much too small, he decided, and slipped out the door and down the hall out to the street. It wasn't as late as he believed it to be, and a few people, mostly drunk, were still mulling about. He frowned as he walked, not really paying attention to where he was going.

He had strange dreams before, but nothing like this. Never mind the Dragon. Dagonet had never been in one of his dreams, and it unnerved him that he should be in his subconscious now. And that conversation…most of it escaped him now but the overall feeling was one of uneasiness.

When Lucan looked up he was on a street he recognized, but wasn't sure where it was. He frowned, but then he spotted a familiar house and grinned. This was Catherine's street. Making his way to the house he snuck around the back and checked the backdoor. It was unlocked. Feeling a shiver of daring run up his spine and almost chuckling from it, he made his way inside, slipping into the side bedroom.

There, he could see the shape of Catherine, so unlike her cousin's. He made his way to Catherine, and kneeled down, touching her shoulder gently.

"Cath…" he whispered gently, shaking her a little more.

He felt her jerk and then suddenly sit up right. He caught her before she fell out of bed and closed his hand around her mouth, muffling her scream.

"Shh, it's Lucan!" He whispered harshly.

Her eyes widened and she looked through the dark. When her eyes adjusted she found his face and glared, pushing his hand off her face.

"What do you think you're doing!?" she said rather loudly.

"Shh!" Lucan hissed, grabbing Catherine and pulling her up. He watched Ariana, but she only gave a great snore and turned away, apparently still sleeping. Lucan gaped but didn't pause very long and turned back to his friend.

"Well, my goodness Lucan, why are you here so late?" she said, lowering her voice now.

He put his finger to his lips and motioned for her to come with him. Catherine rolled her eyes and shooed him away. He motioned more frantically and she rolled her eyes again and nodded, pointing toward her dress and shoes. Now understanding, Lucan nodded and backed away, slipping out of the house once again.

Leaning back against the stones, he looked up at the dark sky. The moon was almost full; looking like it was trying its very best to become fully round. He smiled and looked back toward the door when the sound of it squeaking open was heard. Catherine stepped out, fully dressed with a frown on her face, looking rather disheveled.

"Now what could be so bloody important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

She sounded disgruntled but Lucan could only smile fondly at her appearance and reach out for her hand. Raising one eyebrow skeptically she paused for a moment. Then, sighing she relented and reached for him, feeling his warm hand close over hers. He pulled her gently beside him, making their way toward the front of their house.

When they reached the front she looked at him, asking again.

"I couldn't sleep, I'm sorry." He said in a small voice.

"Oh," all feelings of irritability left her at that childlike voice and she nodded, "why couldn't you sleep?"

"I had a dream, with Dagonet in it. I don't remember exactly what he said. But there was a dragon, and you were there, and so were the men. And I was naked." He murmured.

Catherine's eyes widened and she looked up at him, tripping over a protruding stone in the walk way. "You-you had a dream with me and you were naked!?" she asked.

He didn't hear her at first, looking down at her with a frown on his face. Then, realizing what she said he jolted out of it and shook his head.

"No, no. Well, I mean yes. But it was because I fell asleep that way-"

Her eyes widened even more.

"-Oh, no, no. I mean, I feel asleep after washing. I was so tired and I was battling a dragon and you were cheering me on, sort of." He finished, blushing a little.

"Oh, okay then." She said, looking forward with a puzzled look.

"But the Dagonet showed up and said something to me, and…it was unnerving, you know?"

Catherine honestly could not give an accurate affirmation, but nodded anyway. Lucan took this and they continued walking in silence for a little while. Catherine let the silence linger and they continued on for white a while. They ended up in the country, sitting down against an old tree, looking out on the village, the battlements of the castle looming in the distance. The light breeze that came along with night was refreshing and Catherine closed her eyes against it. While their hands had been apart since sitting, Catherine looked down at hers, still feeling the warmth of his. She carefully looked to her left to see what Lucan was doing.

His eyes were staring off at the twinkling lights of the village. She could see their lightness reflected in the darkness of his eyes. While he was preoccupied, she took the time to study him. His hair had gotten lighter, light brown intermixed with the darkness of it. He looked older and the scruff that grew around his chin was proof he was getting older. She had felt his arms around her earlier, seen him last month almost naked, but he looked even more lean and muscular than she remembered; definitely different from their first meeting. He was bronze from the sun, and she briefly reflected on that week he had been completely sunburned and Galen had slapped him on the back in hello. He had let out such a yell most of the patrons in the tavern were alerted. She smiled at the thought, making a small sound of humor.

This caught his attention and he turned to look at her, eyebrows furrowed in wonder. "What?" he asked softly, as if feeling the need to lower his voice.

There was no one around and she giggled fully at the tone of his voice. She looked around, "Afraid all the people will hear?" she asked just as softly, leaning in and pushing her shoulder against him.

He smiled at her and shrugged his shoulder at hers, bumping her lightly. She leaned her head against him, closing her eyes.

"I was just thinking. About your sunburn."

Lucan let out a groan and let his head fall against hers. Catherine giggled and turned her face toward him, into the crook of her neck. She took a large breath. He smelled a little musty, she thought, but like Lucan, there was something sweet and natural about how he smelled. When she let out her breath she could feel him shiver and grinned, nuzzling her face closer.

"Hey, that tickles…" he yelped, squirming away from her. When her fingers attacked he used his hands to pin her arms to her side. She giggled and attacked more forcefully. Growling playfully, Lucan pushed her back, giving a counterattack as well, feeing her stomach contracting beneath his fingers as he lay his palm against her stomach, fingers tickling at her sides.

Catherine squealed and Lucan laughed breathlessly, putting his forefinger to his lips again. "Shh, you don't want to wake up the wolves."

Catherine's eyes bulged and she tried to sit up, "Wolves!?"

Lucan laughed, pushing her back down, "Kidding, there's none for miles. And they prefer a deer, not a tavern girl."

"Woman!" she snorted indignantly, forgetting the wolves.

Catherine closed her eyes and tilted her head back in mock arrogance. Lucan smirked and sighed. When the gentle force of it ruffled her hair just slightly, his face relaxed from its smile. With her eyes still closed, he moved his hands gradually lower onto her hips. Her eyes snapped open when she realized and the smile fell from her face before reappearing more softly. Understanding dawned in her expression. She purposefully moved her own hands onto his chest, palm flat against the hard plane of it. She saw his Adam's apple bob and at that sight she felt her own mouth go dry.

"Woman." Lucan conceded after the brief silence, and he slowly picked her back up, sitting back against the tree, but eyes not leaving her.

Trying to find her voice Catherine licked her lips, drawing her bottom lip into her mouth. But before she could, she felt warmth against her. It took a moment for her to comprehend what it was, and then she realized the softness was Lucan's lips.

Catherine's fingers found Lucan's chest again and fisted, taking his shirt into her palms. Her whole body tensed and then relaxed as he slipped his fingers to her waist, but her hands never left his shirt, pulling at him, begging him closer.

Before long, Lucan felt the urge to move and so he opened his mouth, coercing her to give up her own. She accepted and he could feel her purring, the gentle vibrations echoing through him. He let his body relax, arms bringing her into him, surprised at her warm and soft body quite unlike his own.

When lungs called for air Lucan let his lips relax and pull away from her, breathing hard through his nose. She let out a long sigh of air and opened her eyes groggily. But she couldn't have been too tired, and when she had caught her breath she sought him out once more. Lucan kissed her breathless and when he pulled away for the second time. He smiled, pressing his check against hers as he settled her on his lap.

It wasn't too long before Lucan felt the need to speak and he whispered against her ear. "Was that like your brother?"

"Catherine?" he asked when she didn't answer. "Catherine…Catherine!"

Catherine's eyes opened and she looked around, the darkness blinding her before she saw Lucan's face. She could feel solid ground beneath her, not the warmth of Lucan's legs.

Lucan smiled at her, "Wow, I finally admit you're a woman and you fall asleep like a baby."

He frowned, the blush that spread across her cheeks letting relaying that Catherine hadn't exactly been dreaming about rainbows and sunshine. He had to admit when she had looked at him like that, lying beneath him, he had thought…But she was just tired; he let himself believe the look in her eyes was grogginess.

"Sorry, it is late, you know." Catherine whispered, eyes shutting again.

Lucan nodded and stood, dusting himself off. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dragged you up."

Catherine stood as well, shaking her head, "It's fine, you can drag me out of bed anytime."

Lucan raised an eyebrow and she giggled, "Not in the way that sounded."

He nodded and grabbed her suddenly. Catherine thought that maybe she was dreaming again but he simply picked her up.

"Lucan, c'mon, you can't carry me all the way there."

"You'd be surprised what this summer has done. I could carry Baldric from coast to coast without tiring."

"Thank you for comparing me to Baldric."

Lucan laughed, "You're much lighter," he assured her, "and more pleasant to look at, I promise you."

"Good." She said, leaning her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes.

It was actually much faster, knowing Catherine would have been dead on her feet as they walked. They made it back before all the torches were extinguished, and Lucan estimated all the late taverns had just closed their doors. Lucan slipped back into the village unseen and to Catherine's house. When he turned his head as they entered the door he could see just the outline of her face and her sleeping eyes.

He grinned and put her gently onto the mattress. He untied her boots and slid them off, setting them neatly onto the floor next to each other. Sitting up he united her bodice slowly, watching her eyes for any sign of life. Seeing none he slipped it off, leaving her in her shift and underclothes. Satisfied she would be comfortable he pulled the bed linens up over her body, kissing her forehead and backing out of the room.

He could still catch a few more hours of sleep, much needed sleep, before the day began, so he cleared out and walked back to his rooms. He found his bed, disrobed, and slid in, falling asleep before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

**A/N 2:** Catherine and Lucan both have their own dreams. I have to admit, I got halfway through this chapter, and wanted it to desperately end differently – but decided against it. There's a little making out fun for you, even if it was fake. Don't hate me, and tell me if you dislike it. 


	16. Peace Time

**A/N:** Reviews? Please?

**Chapter Fifteen: Peace Time**

* * *

"Updates?" 

Arthur's voice was hoarse, yet severe. The past three days he had been issuing orders constantly to scouts, messengers, and diplomats. The days had molded together as sleep began to evade the commander king. The dark circles under his eyes were proof enough of that.

"There's been movement from the South."

The man who answered was tall, willowy, and carried only arrows on his back. His ruddy brown hair and skin were in need of a thorough washing and his clothes were in the same state. He stood in Arthur's chambers fidgeting like he did not enjoy being there, but it was a nervous sort of demeanor and not a hateful one. The other knights looked at him with mild recognition, but were more concerned with what their commander had to say. He felt very much unneeded, but spoke anyway.

"They are building, Sir, what looks to be an outpost. They are training warriors; at least 300 men in fighting condition are stationed there. There are women and children that stay mainly inside the wall, there are very few of them. I believe I have seen their leader, but I can't be sure. They are raising an army." He finished lamely, looking straight at his king with apologetic eyes.

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge between his nose and closing his eyes tight. What was there to do? He had never dealt with an enemy who had not outright attacked. This was peculiar but could not go on. With the threat of a Saxon attack at any time the country could not sleep soundly, he could not sleep soundly.

Arthur nodded and stood, "Thank you, Eamonn, you're dismissed."

The tired scout nodded in thanks and departed, leaving Arthur alone with Galahad, Gawain, and Bors.

"You want to attack." Bors assessed from Arthur's profound silence.

Galahad made a sound of aversion, only to be quieted by Gawain.

"How soon?"

"As soon as possible."

"The troops are still inexperienced. I told you they need until after winter. Next summer would be – "

"I understand that, but we don't know how much time we have to train them, I need them ready now to be safe."

Gawain opened to his mouth to speak again, but let it dissolve into a sigh and looked over at Galahad, twisting his head toward the door. Galahad made a small nod of acquiescence and followed Gawain from the room. Arthur, however, stopped them with a wave of his hand.

"I understand you've taken a charge?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes on Bors.

Surprised, Bors nodded, "Yes Lucan. A good boy, strong. He'll be great with a bit more work. You do know Lucan – "

Arthur nodded. Bors gave a small smile and nodded.

"He'll do good. A little training up and – "

"A swift kick to the arse." Galahad interjected.

"He's fine. He'll be fine." Gawain supplied quietly.

"He's a baby. He's too sweet faced and he still acts like he's at the teat. He's so eager to insert himself but he's doing it half way. He's lazy."

Arthur sighed, leaning back and the chair and thinking for a moment. "He's never had a father." He said.

"Neither did I." Galahad grunted, showing no compassion as he stepped from the room.

* * *

"See you tonight!" Lucan called behind him, waving a tanned hand toward Catherine, who stood watching him from the door as he walked away. 

He grinned to himself, lost in thought before a sharp jolt and weight on his shoulder made him blink and look up through the harsh light of the sun. Thaddeus had his arm around Lucan's shoulder, pulling him close in a brotherly way.

"Aww, is someone in…love?" Thaddeus asked, winking at his friend.

Lucan smiled, but hid it with an amused frown and pushed the boys arm from his shoulder. "Ha, with Catherine? She's…she's…like a sister." He said, for lack of a better excuse. He winced once the words sank in, and he realized he was referring to her in the same way she saw him.

"Mmm hmm…" Thaddeus said skeptically, watching Lucan closely.

"What?! We are!" Lucan growled, pushing at his friend good-naturedly.

"Sure, whatever you say."

"What does Lucan say?" Galen asked, pushing his sandy hair from his cobalt eyes.

"Has he admitted I'm better at arrows?" Baldric chimed in.

"No one in their right mind would admit that." Thaddeus said with a shake of his head. "Sorry Baldy, but you are just as bad as Garrett is at spears."

"Hey-!" the youngest began to protest, only to be silenced.

"Quiet! What does Lucan say?" Galen asked again, insisting on an answer.

Lucan groaned, glaring at Thaddeus. "Nothing. I said nothing."

"He is insisting that the lovely Catherine and he are just acquaintances." Thaddeus drawled, smirking.

"We are." Lucan insisted, clenching his teeth together.

"She's pretty." Young Garrett offered, blushing at the raised eyebrows he got from the rest.

Baldric snorted at this, "Sure, if you like the ones who look like little chubby boys."

This comment earned a glare from Galen, Lucan, and Leon. Garrett was too busy staring at his feet in embarrassment to do anything about the offensive comment. Galen shook his head and bumped Lucan with his shoulder.

"She is pretty." He said encouragingly.

"Ah, best not be saying that, Garrett, Sarah will be jealous." Thaddeus warned.

Garrett shook his head, "Sarah has nothing to worry about." He grinned.

"Why would I care if she's pretty? We're friends." Lucan insisted.

"Don't like her, eh?" Leon's quiet, husky voice asked from where he walked next to Galen.

Lucan bit his lip and shrugged, his defenses weakening a little, "Nah, I like her well enough. It's she who doesn't like me."

"Bad luck, mate." Thaddeus said, sounding apologetic. "At least you're not like Baldric, who is delusional about girls liking him."

Baldric glared at Thaddeus, pushing his foot out in front of the boy to trip him. Thaddeus skipped with light feet over the protruding limb and shook his head, "He's slow and ugly too."

The group laughed, watching as Baldric sputtered angrily.

* * *

"I don't understand it." Catherine said, biting on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. She stared out the window; tilting her head to the side and watching the soldiers start to file away out of the courtyard, done with their midday meal. 

"Hmm?" Vanora asked, clearing away a cluttered table. "Don't understand what?"

"Well…what his problem is."

"Lucan?" Vanora guessed, frowning, "What do you mean?"

"He's different, haven't you noticed he's different?" the girl asked, turning back to look at Vanora, leaning back against one of the tables.

"Well, no, not really. I mean, he's a little more outspoken, I suppose." Vanora offered, sounding confused.

"Exactly!" Catherine exclaimed, standing straight and reaching for an empty, dirty cup on the table in front of her. Vanora jumped and then shook her head at the outburst, getting back to work.

"I hadn't noticed it at first, and I didn't really know him too well the first part of his life, but he's talking. He's moving different, too. He's got a skip, or something, in his step. It's peculiar." Catherine finished, clearing the table.

"Aye, he's not sulking so much."

"Oh, no." Catherine said with a scoff, "He does a fair bit of that. He gets all defensive when Theo teases him about the training that day. Or he gets fussy when I'm working it seems he needs attention the whole time."

Vanora turned and walked toward the kitchen, smiling knowingly, but her face hidden from Catherine. She could almost roll her eyes at the silliness of it all. By the time they figured it out, Vanora would be bored of the game Catherine and Lucan played with each other. It seemed like good fun when a person looked at these things from the outside, but when one was right next to two people who fancied each other it was quite different. It was maddening.

"Perhaps he's jealous." She called back.

"At what?" Catherine asked, perplexed, following after her employer closely.

Vanora didn't answer, just shrugging.

"C'mon, Vanora, You can't just say something like that and not elaborate. What is he jealous of?"

"Well – "

"Catherine! Catherine!" a small, squeaky voice screamed.

Jumping, the girl turned, eyes widening in surprise as a small red haired boy hit her square in the stomach, arms wrapping around her middle tightly. Catherine spun a little, losing her balance. A few other blurs flew past and then turned, skidding to a halt upon seeing their prey taking shelter.

"Teeny, what is it?"

The little nine year old holding onto her looked up, hoping that she would save him. His red hair was unruly and she could see patches of mud and grass caught up in it. Smiling she reached her arm around, brushing some of the hay from the little boys hair. He grinned back, showing a multitude of missing teeth.

"They pushed me in the mud!" he growled, his face turning into a pouting frown.

Catherine giggled and nodded, "Yeah, I can see that." She said with a snort.

Looking up, Catherine smiled at Thirteen's two older siblings, two girls Twelve and Eleven. They were glaring at their little brother. Their hems were soaked in wet mud and their boots covered in muck. Pulling the little boy away, Catherine could see that now she was smeared with sludge and she sighed in exasperation.

"He attacked us first!" Eleven said, crossing her hands over her chest angrily.

"Did not attack! You just couldn't take joking!" Teeny spat back, sticking his tongue out.

"We can take joking. You were being mean!" Twelve chimed in.

Eleven was just old enough where Thirteen was a gnat in her way, no longer a playmate and more of a nuisance. The girl, who had already caught the eyes of many young men, was now fourteen and could be found either racing her younger brother and sister or combing her hair. This in-between state had been difficult for her younger brother, who could be found tormenting both sisters on a daily basis. The sudden change in her demeanor toward rough play was difficult to accept.

Twelve, who was twelve, on the other hand looked exhilarated at the thought of maiming her younger brother, even if she tried to act as mature as her older sister sometimes. She was much messier than Eleven and her hair was not quite as manicured. It hung in tangles and frizzy curls down her back, soaked with mud. Catherine looked back and for the between the two girls. She frowned as she assessed just who was speaking the truth. When she looked up to Vanora for help she saw the woman had vanished, probably into the back or upstairs into their house. Grumbling under her breath about being left alone with this mess and her confused thoughts she pulled the boy further away from her body and kneeled down.

"What happened Teeny?" she asked with a kind smile.

"I came up to Ellie and said 'Garmund Bakerson is staring'. That's all! They ran after me and pushed me in the mud near the training grounds and tripped me in front of Gilly and Four!" the boy's eyes filled with tears at this.

Catherine felt for him. Being tripped and beaten up by little girls did not look manly in front of your two older brothers, both soldiers in the army. She wiped a smudge of dirt off of the boy's cheek and turned to the girls.

"Was that the way of it?" she asked.

Ellie shook her head vehemently, "No!" she said, pouting out her lip and turning.

Twelve, called Elve, jumped to explain. She spoke breathlessly, struggling to find the words to sound more grown-up.

"Nuh uh!" she yelled, shaking her head in copy of his sister, "He came up, said that Garmund had stared and said that h-he had said…er…s-spoken i-ill of Ellie! And when we asked what he said Teeny laughed and said he had said – he had called her a…" the girl looked around for her mother and when she couldn't see her rushed forward and was about to whisper in Catherine's ear when Ellie broke in.

"He said Garmund called me a fat pig wench!" the girl cried, tears springing up in her eyes. "And then when Elve went over to ask Garmund he said he had never said that and he was shocked that they would think that and now he won't talk to me!"

Catherine's eyebrows rose, looking surprised. She fought the smile that attempted to spring up and cleared her throat, nodding.

"So Ellie was so angry she chased Teeny all the way to the training field. I pushed him in the mud first and then he pulled me in after him and kicked my shins." Elve lifted her dress to her knees to show her bloody shins as she said this, "And then Ellie pushed his face in the mud and he splattered her with mud."

"Hmm… well this is difficult." Catherine said thoughtfully, looking at Teeny. He looked shameful and bashful.

Catherine grinned at him and thought for another moment before nodding, "Alright. We'll make a deal. Teeny, you have to talk to Garmund Bakerson and tell him what happened and that it was all a misunderstanding, you'll also be helping your sisters with their punishment for pushing you. Girls, you'll have to wash all the mud you tracked in here and your own clothes by hand down in the river."

The girls started to protest that she wasn't being fair, but Vanora had reappeared and cleared her throat.

"That sounds fine and dandy to me." She said, setting a bucket and three mops nearby. "Go upstairs, change, take your clothes out to the river, clean them, and then I want you back here as quickly as possible to mop this up so Catherine doesn't have to do it."

"But Ma, what's Catherine got to do anyway? She doesn't have a suitor!"

Catherines eyes widen and she felt a flush rise on her face and she sputtered.

Vanora glared at her children, shaking her head, "Show some respect to your elder." their mother said, wacking the youngest girl on the side of the head, earning a glare. "Now, do I need to repeat myself?!"

The three kids looked at each other, grumbling at their luck, but all forgiven for their transgressions with each other, brought together by their mutual dislike of the punishment. Teeny looked back at Catherine, who shrugged and grinned apologetically. The boy sighed and took the first step forward, followed by his sisters upstairs. When they were out of earshot Catherine let out a shocked laugh.

Vanora smiled as well and shook her head. "Those three, the boy twins, and Ten to get out of the house and I'll have peace... You can go change if you want, I won't need you until later." she muttered, turning and heading back into the kitchen, "Thanks Catherine!"

"Your welcome!" she called back, sighing and standing up from her kneeling position. She stretched and looked around, wondering what to make her self occupied with so she wasn't tempted to do the children's work for them. She looked down at her ruined dress and sighed, knowing it would take much scrubbing to get it clean again.

* * *

Catherine swung her dangling legs, popping another grape into her mouth. 

"I don't think that's true." Lucan said softly, shaking his head and grabbing a piece of bread, reaching across Catherine to snatch it.

"Oh, no. Vanora said she saw them in the tavern, as clear as day. Their families were speaking." Catherine gossiped.

Lucan shook his head again and grabbed a grape from her fingers. She gave a sound of protest but sighed and picked up another piece of fruit and popping it in her mouth.

"Just because their families were speaking doesn't mean they have an arranged marriage. And even if they do, what's wrong with that?" Lucan asked, frowning.

His eyes went from Catherine to scanning across the wall where they sat. It wasn't necessarily the most proper place for them to be, and Lucan was quite sure they were out of bounds. But never-the-less, it was the most beautiful view of the surrounding woods, and nothing could sneak up on them here.

"Because, Sarah shouldn't have to marry someone she doesn't love. I went to Sunday school lessons with her. She's so sweet."

"Haven't they been friends since birth? I bet they're getting married because they love each other. Galen is my friend, a good friend. He's a good man; he'll be a good husband." Lucan defended, "She could do much worse."

Catherine made a sound of disagreement but stayed silent, finishing up her meal and leaning back against the cool stone of the wall.

"I could never be set up like that." Catherine sighed.

Lucan nodded, watching her for a moment, but then he shrugged. "I don't know, it might not be so bad. It takes the guess work and scariness out of it, doesn't it?"

The girl scoffed and shook her head. "Wow, you're romantic." She joked.

Lucan chuckled and nodded, "Well if you can't find someone you love, you can still be happy."

"I disagree."

"You would, you're a woman."

"Ah!" she exclaimed, slapping him lightly on the chest, "That doesn't mean you, a man, can be less sensitive to these kinds of things. You couldn't possibly be happy with a stranger and someone you don't love."

"They're not strangers. They grew up together; they were friends before that anyway."

Catherine reached for Lucan's wineskin, taking a sip and handing it back to him, where he also drank from it.

"It's still unfair."

"Who says life is fair?"

"No one. Apparently, it's not. According to Elve, neither am I. She said it took her five hours to clean out the muck from her dress."

Lucan raised his eyebrows, "What? What've I missed?"

"Sibling rivalry." Catherine said, and went on to explain the ordeal of the morning.

Lucan was laughing by the end, shaking his head. "Hmm, well, at least he stood up for himself. His brothers didn't even notice, I don't think. Or if they did they didn't mention it to anyone. None of us saw it."

Catherine nodded as Lucan looked up at the sky. She let the silence linger for a bit. It was companionable enough, not awkward, but she couldn't help but fidget a little, wondering whether she could pry into what she wanted to know. It wasn't her place, she knew. She was his friend, they were more friends now then they had ever been and it was nice. She still felt, however, that she was walking on eggshells with him - but that was only because she thought she had to make up that horrible day after the festival.

Finally, she found the courage to break the silence.

"So…how is training?" she murmured, hoping he might not have heard.

Lucan, however, had heard and raised his eyebrows looking surprised. Ever since their argument about him joining the army she had been strangely silent about the whole thing. She had not questioned him, had not stuck around when he talked to the boys about it, and seemed to be ignoring the situation.

He cleared his throat and shrugged. "I don't know. Fine, I guess. I'm training with Bors, you know, privately after regular lessons."

"Yeah. Yes. I had heard that."

Lucan nodded, "Yeah. I'm getting pretty good at the axe, actually. I think I'll be put on cavalry soon, but I mustn't get my hopes up. For all I know, they'll keep me on foot." He groaned at the thought. "Ugh, a month or longer on foot traveling, can you imagine."

Catherin shook her head, "Sounds horrid."

There was silence for a short time, while Catherine raged an internal battle over whether to take the conversation. She cleared her throat and Lucan frowned.

"What?" he asked, nudging her with a shoulder.

She shrugged and made a grunt in unwillingness to speak.

"C'mon…what?"

"Well…" Catherine began, sighing, "Are you afraid?"

Lucan looked from her to his lap, shrugging his shoulders. He frowned and then looked back up, looking angry, more with himself than her.

"I…I don't know." He paused for a moment and nodded more surely, "You know, I think I am."

"Of course you are." Catherine whispered softly. "I'm kind of scared."

Lucan frowned and looked over at her. He sighed and leaned back against the stone, nodding and facing forward. Catherine turned to face him in the moment after and leaned back, copying his stance. She turned when he didn't look back and hesitantly leaned her head against his shoulder.

"I'm scared for you." She murmured lightly.

Lucan turned his head just a little, but could only get a view of her nose and eyelashes. He let himself indulge in a grin and then slowly let his head rest against her head as well, sighing.

"I'll be fine." He said with mock confidence.

* * *


	17. Alys Us Of Yfele

Chapter Sixteen: Alys Us Of Yfele

A/N: Guys, c'mon! No reviews last chapter?! Do you hate me?

Alys Us Of Yfele Loose us of Evil (Old English)

* * *

_July…_

_August…_

_September…_

_October…_

_November…_

_December…_

* * *

_January._

The men trudged on, tripping over the knee-high snow. The white substance had penetrated everything. It filled and weighed their boots, seeping through their breeches and melting cold on their skin. Their armor stuck uncomfortably to their wet clothes, trapping them in a cold, sweaty, unbearable cage.

When one tripped, another leant down to help. Their noses ran and they sniffled through the cold. Coughs abounded, as did fevers and head aches, but no one stopped and no one complained. The weaker and older fell behind the rest, lugging their horses behind them.

Before them was only white. In the morning it stung their eyes and at night, their skin. The trees in the landscape were bare and sad looking. They sagged heavily under the weight of the snow and ice. Their long, scratching arms sometimes let out large cracks like lightening as they fell, spooking the horses.

Today, a young man turned his head from his companions, coughing into his elbow. He closed his eyes tight in pain as his throat protested. As he took another breath and then exhaled, he felt his chest wheeze and crackle. He muffled it, coughing again to clear his throat. He would let no one know he was sick, it would not be fair.

Galen looked over at his friend, frowning. Though Lucan had tried his best to disguise his sickness it had not been so hard to discover. The blacksmith's son, however, kept his silence out of respect for Lucan's wishes. But Galen kept a close watch on Lucan, for any sign of serious illness. He hoped this cold would pass.

Lucan gripped the reigns of his horse tighter. The mare let out a snort and traipsed faster, walking alongside her human. He gave her a soft pat and a smile, murmuring happy words in her ears.

"You've done well today. Good girl, eh?" He said, clicking his tongue gently for a response.

In fact, he thought, his horse had done surprisingly well the past few weeks. The six they had been traveling had been hard; first with a blizzard and now with the aftermath of it. The cold made him miss the sweltering of summer, though he knew once that season arrived again he would feel quite the opposite.

Lucan's axe hung quiet at his side, the metal frosted over from neglect. Though he believed he gave his axe ample attention, there was nothing to fight, no time to sharpen, and no way to lessen its burden. He fingered at the blade every now and then, to draw some strength from it, or to reassure himself it was still there. It seemed to make him realize that he was definitely not dreaming. This could either be a blessing or a curse when the days grew tedious.

Nothing had changed much, there had been no changes in the 'enemy's' movement. Frequent scout reports had grown a little less frequent, yes, but that was only because of the snow. They still reported the same thing: that there were more defenses, but no signs of offensive movement.

In the months before the troops had left, life had been monotonous. The days were blurred into training and sleeping. Only a few bright glimpses of difference shone in Lucan's memory. One of those flashes, Catherine, had been occupying his thoughts more and more lately. It was a masochistic thought process, and he knew it was only hurting him by replaying the last few days at the fort, but he couldn't help it. His back muscles tensed as he reminisced quietly to himself, closing his eyes against the bright of the snow to remember the dull cool of autumn.

* * *

_November._

Catherine gave a great, unlady-like grunt as she heaved up a bucket of water. Her fingers stung a little from the cold of the metal and worn wood she tightened and loosened them around the bucket to get the blood flowing a little easier. November had brought a slight chill in the early mornings and late nights, but it was slowly penetrating into the midday.

Plodding back into the tavern, Catherine made her way to the back, pouring the cool water into the dish washing bin. She dipped her hands into the water, getting them used to the cold. She grabbed the lye soap and scrubbed it into the basin, watching the water get foamy.

Half way through reaching back into the water she stopped, sighing. She could feel her stomach clench painfully, but it was not her time, and she was not ill. No, instead, her thoughts had slipped to the painful topic of Lucan, and the coming migration to Anderitum. She licked her lips and sighed, trying to focus on the dishes.

She did not know that Lucan had been watching. He watched her as she filled the bucket (and he had wondered if he should help, but preferred to just watch her), and then as she carried it inside. Now, resting against the door way, her back to him, he watched her dip her arms into the water. It went up to her elbows, and he could tell she had been out to the well more than once before he had arrived.

He glanced around the tavern briefly, taking in the nicks on the wood and the carvings that he had put there as a little boy, as well as the flaws in the wood that Vanora's children had put there. All memories, all things he wanted fresh in his memory before he left…and that would be in two days.

He brought his attention back to the girl washing dishes in front of him. He grinned at her obliviousness and knew he should probably tell her to be more careful – but just as he had opened his mouth to announce his presence, he heard a loud sigh escape her and the mumble of some words. Frowning, he leaned forward a little to hear her.

He caught his own name and let a grin spread out on his face, feeling pleased with himself. Deciding to make his presence known before she embarrassed herself, he cleared his throat loudly.

At the sound, Catherine turned, slopping water out of the basin and onto the wood floors – thought most of it ended up on her. She felt her heart go up into her throat, and just as she had breathed into scream she saw it was Lucan and a squeak came out instead.

"Don't you _ever_…do that again!" she growled, after her heart had stopped racing.

Lucan shrugged, trying to look innocent before he snorted, walking toward her while he laughed.

"Ah, Catherine, I'm sorry."

Catherine held up her hands in front of her, "Heh! Don't you come near me."

But Lucan kept moving forward, holding out his hands in front of him, ready to grasp her up in his arms.

Catherine shook her head, "Nope, nope! Get away or I'll slosh you."

"You'll what?" Lucan asked incredulously, not really understanding.

However, he understood the next moment when Catherine had dipped her hands into the soapy water and lobbed it at him. Sputtering, Lucan wiped the bitter water from his face, spitting some bubbles out onto the floor.

Catherine paused when he saw the glint in Lucan's eyes. It was dangerous looking and the young woman backed up, finding the wall behind her.

"Lucan…" she said warningly.

He wiped the rest of the water from his eyes and moved toward her slowly. She gulped, curling her hands into fists. She relaxed merely a second before he got to her, seeing the mischievous grin he exuded. When he grabbed her, however, she let out another squeal.

"Lucan!" she called out, as he slung her over his shoulder, bringing her back to the cold water.

Her eyes widened in shock, but she had no time to react as he slid her off his shoulder, and put her bottom straight into the water. She gasped from the cold. Her legs and arms hung out and she arched her back, trying to get out of the cold water before it soaked any more of her clothing.

Lucan was watching her with amusement, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Need help?" he asked gently.

She glared, "Not from you."

He nodded, raising his eyebrows. "Alright, I'll leave you to it then." And he turned, making his way for the door.

Catherine's eyes widened and she whimpered as she struggled to get out of the bin. Before he could get completely out she sighed and called for him.

"Fine. Help me. Since you put me in here, you had better."

Laughing, Lucan turned and reached for her. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he grabbed her back and slipped one hand under her legs. He could feel the wet of her dress and the material had thinned because of it. Her covered skin reached his finger tips, but he could only make out the supple texture of it.

She held onto him, and he, her, for more a moment more than was needed when he set her down. "Are we done fighting?" she asked into his ear.

He nodded, letting out a chuckle, "Yes, I'd say so. Unless you feel the need to retaliate."

She shook her head, "No thank you." She said and finally stepped away from him, backing up to the wash basin once more, leaning against it.

Lucan watched her closely, eyes sweeping from her eyes to her lips, lingering there for a moment. In his vision he could see her chest rise and fall with steady breaths and he cleared his throat lightly out of nervousness. He could feel heat spread up to his face and ran a hand through his long hair to act collected.

Catherine frowned and turned her head to the side, "Hello? Lucan? You alive?" she asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

Lucan blinked and raised his eyebrows, "What? Yes. Sorry." He said, frowning, scratching his chin. "I was day dreaming for a moment, I suppose."

She bit her bottom lip, nodding, "That's OK, I need to get to work anyway." She said, turning her back to him, letting out a long, soft breath out through pursed lips.

Lucan grinned at her from behind, tilting his head to get a better look at her wet back, but he straightened when his eyes moved lower and her wet dress was plastered against her backside. Startled at this discovery he straightened even more, nodding his head.

"I'll let you work, then." He murmured, stepping toward the exit, though he paused for a moment.

"Hmm." Catherine agreed softly.

Her back was tense in waiting for him to leave, but when she felt like she was still being watched she turned her head to face him. She grinned, seeing he was still here.

"What?" she asked with impatient amusement.

But at further scrutiny of his face, the smile slipped from hers and she frowned. Lucan bit the side of his cheek, still watching her, not answering. He could feel the tension in his muscles as he stopped himself from doing something very rash.

Catherine fidgeted in the water, taking her hands out for a moment and drying them on a towel. "What is it?" she asked, now more impatient than amused.

In retrospect, Catherine would later wonder what had held him back. How had he exercised self-restraint when she herself wanted to stop caring about modesty?

"Tomorrow, would you meet me? At that spot we had the picnic?"

Catherine frowned and nodded. "Yes, of course. Why?"

Lucan shrugged, "Good-bye, I guess. I just want a quiet night."

Catherine nodded, "Alright, after work is done, I will be there."

* * *

Catherine hurriedly pulled off her dirty boots, and pulled on her better pair of shoes and a cloak. Her aunt and uncle raised their eyebrows at each other, opening their mouth to say something about their niece's appearance. She was dressed in a better gown than she had started the day in that was certain. Even so, the faded blue-gray of her dress could not hide the flushed, haggard appearance that a hard day's work brings.

"Catherine? Where are you going tonight?" her aunt asked, the old, graying woman crossing her arms suspiciously.

"To meet Lucan. They leave tomorrow, and we are going to…well…" Catherine hesitated, unsure herself of just what Lucan was planning. "…I don't quite know. But I have to go now."

"Missy!" her uncle called, but it was too late.

She was already out the door.

* * *

Catherine slipped through the back gate, soldiers at the top shouting at her that they were about to close.

"Don't worry!" she called back, only to hear the growls of disbelief behind her.

"We won't wait for you miss!"

She waved them off and broke out into a sprint. The brambles and brush hit against her ankles as her dress flew up. She jumped over a few logs, almost tripping over an exposed tree root. She could see the mangled tree and the little pond in the distance. The water had disappeared through the hot summer months and was only now beginning to reappear with gentle rains that fall brought.

With another few feet, she could make out Lucan's outline and smiled softly.

Lucan looked up, hearing a loud crunch of a branch. He grinned, "Could you be louder?"

Catherine scowled at him, brushing off the grass that had stuck to the bottom of her dress.

"Could you be any less chivalrous?" she retorted.

"Ah, but I am not a knight. So it doesn't apply to me."

Catherine rolled her eyes and sighed. "So, why did we have to come here?" she asked, looking up at her tree.

Lucan shrugged at sat, patting the ground beside him. Catherine hesitated, looking down at her good dress, but ended up following his wishes.

"I thought it would be…nice." He said.

He felt himself tense when she had settled in, leaning into him, realizing that was probably not the best idea. He ground his teeth together and clenched his fist. Catherine noticed his hunched, anxious posture and nudged him playfully.

"Hey, what's going on?" she asked, looking up at his face.

Lucan turned his body a little, to face her, and faltered. He reached for her, one of his arms wrapping leisurely around her shoulder, his other hand sliding up to her neck. Catherine shied away from his touch, but was pulled back closer to Lucan's body. She swallowed hard, unmoving, and was barely able to breath.

Lucan spoke lowly, in a deep voice that Catherine was unaccustomed to. "I am sorry." He whispered softly.

"For?" she asked, frowning.

Lucan pressed his lips to hers, brushing them tenderly. Her face relaxed, but her eyebrows rose as his lips stroked hers, barely touching. It was the undertone of a kiss. He slanted his head, allowing their mouths to meld together. When he pressed harder, it was a peck, a demulcent caress that, in Catherine's opinion, ended too soon.

He withdrew, slipping his hands from her body.

"You're…forgiven." She choked out, feeling herself blush.

Lucan nodded, but was shocked when he felt arms wrap around his neck and draw him back down to her mouth. He could feel the vibrations of a moan reverberate through his chest, unable to escape. She fumbled with what to do, her hands restless on the back of his neck, unsure of whether to move or not. His own were enveloped tightly around her, sliding her into his body, onto his lap. Catherine whimpered as his hand slipped down her shoulders to the small of her back, resting just on her tail bone.

_Please don't let this be a dream…_ One, or both, of them thought.

Her legs fell on to either side of his, knees resting in the soft dirt. Her skirt rode up over her knees and she shivered from the cold. He hugged her tighter as their lips opened, tongues seeking each other out tentatively. She started when she first felt the tepid moisture of his tongue against hers, but was quickly coaxed to relax.

What at first was languid turned desperate and resolute. Her hands slipped from his neck to his collar, pulling him closer to her. Instinct compelled her on; causing her to be unable to stop and think about what she was doing. If she had, she would have been much clumsier than she already was.

When he finally broke for a breath, lips slipping across her cheek to her neck, his head collided with hers. He had attempted to move to the other side and she had thought he was moving to kiss her again. She winced, and he brought his hand up, rubbing against the knock he received.

"Oh! I –" she began, fingers seeking out the bump, but he pressed one finger to her mouth.

"Don't worry…" he whispered, his lips once again finding the smooth line of her neckline, grinning against her skin.

She let out a groan, and felt the noise of it echo across the air and bounce back to her ears. It felt too loud, but she couldn't stop. She pulled at his collar harder as he sucked on the gentle slope of her neck.

"Lucan…" she hissed as he groped at her, sliding one hand up her leg and under her dress, the other pulling down the shoulder of her gown. His hand could feel the spasms of her muscles as he touched her stomach and moved up slowly. She tensed, pushing into him, her fingers slipping down to the hem of his tunic, pulling it up.

She seemed to be doing the right then, she thought, as she felt him moan into her ear. The hot breath of his mouth caused her to shiver as she smoothed over the tight muscles of his abdomen. She could not find the way to get his shirt off and he stopped his own touching to help her, tossing it off into the distance.

He made quick work of her dress, though he struggled with the ties on the back. She was unable to help, and had to wait patiently, though she found the means to occupy herself, kissing along his chest. When she felt the straps begin to slowly slip down her shoulder she froze, breath caught up in her lungs.

Lucan noticed and turned his head, watching her carefully, asking for permission. After a moments hesitation she took one hand and brought it to her shoulder, pulling down the straps bit by bit.

* * *

Catherine shut the door softly behind her, licking her lips lightly. She winced, feeling the soreness of them. She reached her hand up, touching gently and pulling her hand away. Through the darkness of her house she could make out blood, presumably from where he had bit her. He hadn't meant to, she knew, and she was sure that tomorrow Lucan would find scratches along his back.

Catherine slipped of her dress, wincing as her legs bent and stepped out of it. Her thighs were sore, and she wondered if she'd be able to lie down, let alone sit with the soreness of other places she hardly knew existed. She muffled a groan in her arm, not wanting to wake her family.

As she slid into bed, after washing herself and throwing out the rag, she closed her eyes, fighting back a scream from leaving her mouth as she let her body relax against the mattress. She turned her back, facing the wall. She closed her eyes, unwilling to cry. But, despite her best intentions a few escaped and she pushed her face into the pillow, sobbing against it. Whether because of the pain or something else, she cried for quite a while before exhaustion pulled her into sleep.

* * *

_January._

Lucan looked up from the ground after a shout caught his attention. Beside him, Galen stretched his neck up to see what the commotion was. But even if they had not heard it, the whispers were traveling back quickly.

"It's Anderitum!" a boy in front of them whispered.

Lucan glanced over at Galen, who shrugged. "Maybe it is. Though, I thought we had another week to go."

"I think we do, but they can probably see it from a distance." Lucan answered.

Behind them, Garrett was catching up, walking beside the older men. "Is it true?" he asked.

Lucan and Galen both shrugged. "We don't know any more than you." Galen said.

Lucan turned his head, muffling a cough in his arm again. The day dream disappeared slowly and he closed his eyes tight. In the cold it was becoming harder and harder to remember what she had felt like.

"Are you alright?" Garrett asked Lucan, looking concerned. The younger received a gentle slap from Galen, who gave a warning look and a shake of his head.

"I'm fine." Lucan growled, clearing his throat. But his haggard appearance spoke otherwise, and the purple shadows beneath his eyes was a tell-tale sign of sickness and exhaustion.

When they broke the crest of the hill later on that day, Galen gently tapped Lucan. He looked up, squinting to see the figure in the distance where a great fortified building loomed.

"They were right." He said, but the little dot would definitely be another few days trek and he groaned at the thought.

"At least we made it." Galen offered as a consolation.

* * *

Lucan looked up at the top crease in the tent he shared with Galen. The other man slept deeply beside him, but Lucan could hardly shut his eyes. Every time he did he felt a pang of regret in his stomach, and he could see her eyes, swimming with wetness after….

She would hate him, he knew, when he came back. There was no possible way to apologize for what he had done to her. He knew her thoughts toward that sort of thing; he knew them that night, when he had led her back over the wall. He slipped her safely onto her street and bid her good-night without a kiss, without a sign of affection. He wasn't sure it was safe to, whether she would respond or not.

He bit his lip hard, holding back a growl of frustration. But she had spurned him on, hadn't she? She had pulled, kissed, and ground against him. It wasn't fair.

None of it was fair. Even if she was still peaceful with the idea of that, it was unfair of him to do that spur of the moment, to push one night of neediness and then a dozen more lonely ones on her. It was idiotic - he thought - to do that to someone. Even he was hurting because of it.

_I'll make it up to her;_ he promised silently,_ I'll do whatever she wants me to do. Even if that means leaving her alone…_

* * *

A/N2: Please review!


	18. On Eorðan

**Chapter Seventeen: On Eorðan (On Earth)**

**Super-duper long A/N**: OMG, I know. Sorry. College. 'Nough said. Thank you **King Arthur Soundtrack** for inspiring the rest of this chapter. I swear I'm going to finish this story. I have several bits and pieces of future chapters written already. Once you read this, I bet it'll show how hard it was to right this transition chapter. Not that they're not important- they are. (**Remember: Reviews help a whole lot. Tell me what you like and what you hate.**)

I've been going back through several of the past chapters and cringing. I look around at other people I'm reading and feel like I'm definitely inadequate…some writers on here are SO good. You should all go check out_**Eternal Knight**_** by Sticklebatz**! Though I don't know how many people read this or will get the plug…

* * *

_May, fifteen months later_

It was as if time had tired. The sluggishness of the riders in front of her made Catherine wonder if she was going unconscious. The steps of their horses were hazy and slow. Looking around, though, Catherine knew it was just her. The other women and few men left behind were waving excitedly at the men leaving, welcoming them home with wondrously excited face. Excitement no one had seen in the months the men had been away.

Face contorted with a puckered brow, Catherine looked down at her hands, clenching them into fists and then relaxing them. They felt numb, as if someone was controlling her from very far away. She looked up again and saw a light. Her eyes blinked away the brightness of it and when the illumination dulled she could see the deep brown of his eyes clearly.

He smiled at her, opening his mouth to speak, "Catherine!" he called to her, trying to maneuver his horse through the mass of bodies before him.

"Forward!" the voice of a knight came from behind. The surge of horses behind Lucan made his mount trudge forward and he frowned as he fought through the sea. But it was no use and he was soon pushed out of the wall, a sea of people, seemingly from nowhere, blocking his way to her.

"Catherine! Catherine! Get up!"

A small gnat zipped around Catherine's ear and she groaned, turning away from the offending noise to bury herself deeper into the comfortable blankets of her bed. The dream was relieving, if a little upsetting in the end. She clung to the image but it was quickly snapped away.

"Catherine!" the gnat continued.

When the girl in question finally opened her eyes she winced and put a hand to shield her from the offending strip of sunlight that blinded her.

"Gah! 'bout time!" Ariana's voice growled, from somewhere near Catherine's ear.

A little confused, Catherine was about to open her mouth and rebuke her cousin for waking her…but she stopped mid way through preparing for the speech and instead gasped. The sun was up. And if the sun was up that meant she was already late.

"No!" she choked out, swinging her legs over the bed as her cousin made annoyed huffs from where she stood near the end of the bed.

"Oh yes." Ariana answered, "I'm surprised Belen hasn't sought out to murder you yet. And remember, Clythylde is expecting you just before midday, so be sure to get there early."

Catherine just grunted in response as she shoved her dress over her shoulders, leaving the ties open – she would worry about those while she ran to the baker's shop. She could not believe she had overslept, something she had never done before. Cursing nonsense under her breath she hopped out the door, still trying to shove one shoe on her foot. Behind her, she could hear Ariana laughing at her cousin's failure and subsequent state of undress.

Catherine thought about using an obscenity on her cousin for the first time in her life. Or, being even more late and going back to flog Ariana, but thought better of it. The older girl was much leaner and taller; defeat would be the likely outcome. So instead, she pulled on her boots and started to run, fixing her clothing as she made her way to the baker's.

Belen's was temporary, she hoped, until her aunt was well. Catherine had already burnt herself six times within the past two days. She looked down at her hands which fumbled with the strings of her top and could see the raw red marks on her knuckles.

She was panting, as sweat ran down her brow, when she finally skidded to a halt in front of the stone building. She took a moment to breathe and straighten up. Then she entered.

When a fierce growl of annoyance or disapproval, or both, didn't reach her ears she visibly relaxed. The stifling heat met her next, emanating from the stone ovens. Frowning, she looked around, but only the sound of the fire met her ears. She sighed with relief, hoping Belen had come to light the fires and then left for supplies.

"Girl!" a male voice came from behind her.

She jumped and turned, watching as Belen himself poked his head in through the door. He must have just been behind her. The man glared at the girl, his bright blue eyes clouded with annoyance. He was older than her, but not considered an old man just yet. Perhaps Galahad's age, she wondered, though she never had the audacity to ask. He was not yet bald, as his light, mousy brown hair hung lank around his shoulders with a scruffy, light beard to match. Not handsome, she had thought upon meeting him, but not appalling. He had the hard face of someone who had been forced as a child to come in from play and learn hard work early, but had taken responsibility with honor. The lack of humor in his life had led to a stern view of the future.

Wincing, Catherine watched as Belen stood to his full height, a towering giant. He could barely fit within his own bakery.

"You're late." He rumbled, folding his arms over his chest.

"Yes, sir, I realize. I'm very sorry, there is no excuse."

Belen grunted, shaking his head, "If it happens again, you are no longer welcome here."

Catherine nodded quickly, "I swear to you, it will not happen again."

"Tend to the wet bowls." He said shortly, turning away and ignoring her oath.

Biting her lip from uttering any impertinence, she obeyed and walked to the back, sighing softly at the heat that greeted her. She could feel the fire against her sweaty back, the humid air outside being kept away by the high temperatures. She plodded on anyway, and made her way to where a basket of eggs awaited her…

* * *

Catherine bid good-bye to Belen as she stepped from the shop. Her shoulders were slumped, tired from bending over a bowl of ingredients that her hands were cramped from stirring. The constant pain of her hands bothered her all the way to her _next_ task. The humidity became suddenly unbearable as the sun peaked from behind the clouds. She wiped away the sweat that stuck her loose hair to her forehead, pushing the stray strands back behind her ears.

Her hands were browned, as was the rest of her skin, bronzed from so much time spent outside. The muscles beneath her roughened skin were bulkier and firm. Her fingers, however, had not benefited from the work. She felt calluses whenever her fingers rubbed something soft and she could barely look at them.

Her clothing choices suffered, as well. It was easier to wear the same dress every day, allowing it to become absolutely filthy before washing or changing.

She traipsed on to Clythylde's, seeing the clean, white walls of her store ahead. There, she would be stuffed into a tiny, hot room with a needle and thread for the rest of the day, until the sun began to set. It was tedious and rather painful work.

_Why couldn't I have found more amenable jobs?_ Catherine frequently thought to herself, feeling the tiny sores on her fingertips where she had stabbed herself with the needle countless times in the past two weeks. She licked her dry, cracked lips and looked up. The sun was encased in a sky of clouds, its hazy glow filling the countryside with a humid stickiness. Already, Catherine could feel her underarms puddle with sweat underneath the thickness of her dress.

Since her Aunt's illness, work had been a necessity. The castle had replaced her with a new maid and Ariana had started back at the tavern not long after the soldiers had left the fort. There was no need for a second hand of help and Vanora had to regretfully tell Catherine to seek employment elsewhere. Though there was hardly work that paid as well for a girl of her station, she found work with Belen and Clythylde, both friends of her aunt and uncle. It was the baker's in the morning and the seamstress' in the afternoon. She had just enough time between the two to reach into her pouch to quickly swallow the bit of bread from home.

The labor, tediousness, and lack of nourishment had somehow leaned Catherine. Her baby fat could still be seen, around her cheeks and hips. But it was not quite baby fat anymore, but the curves of a woman, perhaps. And she felt like a woman, too. She no longer blushed around men or strangers, and had no qualms about making sure she was left well enough alone as she walked back from the shop at night.

Ariana had often looked at her with curious eyes as she sat silently at home. As a younger girl, Catherine had been willful and disobedient. Now, however, she only withered silently to herself, her once rich dark hair turning limp and dulled. She spoke when asked a question, or spoken to, but never raised her voice to her aunt and uncle. It made for a much more peaceful life. But Ariana couldn't help missing her cousin and not this new grown Catherine. It made her own spinster life seem as if it was closing around her.

Ariana didn't have many prospects. The viable young men had left the fort for the impending war, so there was no one eligible for either girl to be a possible wife. Ariana was feeling the affects of it. But Catherine, who did not want a husband or a suitor, could have cared less about her aunt and uncle's pressure about the subject.

It sometimes seemed like the lack of men around was the only clue that anything had changed. Many people acted as if there wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Like their brothers weren't gone…Catherine, it seemed, never forgot. Her constant reminder on the subject irked many of the few friends she still had. That only included Vanora, Vanora's children, and Ariana. Catherine had never had many friends to begin with…

She bit her lip hard as she opened the door, to stop the pricking of tears that sprang up behind her eyes. Thankfully, none fell as she rushed to her spot, practically flying into the seat and picking up the needle.

An old woman, grey haired and willowy, as if she might blow away into dust at any moment, raised one eyebrow at her from across the room and then went back to speaking with a costumer over a bolt of practical wool. She put on a thimble and picked up a needle, beginning the embroidery work on cotton in front of her…

* * *

The darkness that surrounded her put Catherine's day into sharp focus. She felt herself go mad now that there was nothing left to focus on. There was nothing more to distract herself from the self-pitying she pushed aside each day. How could she be half in love with someone who wasn't even there? Someone who perhaps didn't even exist except in the fantasies her mind had thought up at night. . So, she muted her thoughts during the day, pushing him to the back of her mind and focusing on something more tangible and pressing.

But…_do I hate him…or do I believe myself in love with him…_ the thoughts came anyway.

The insides of shops were dimly lit by flickering candles; the owner's the last to leave, as always. It was no longer unnerving to walk the dirt streets alone. Her uncle sometimes protested it, but it was a matter of practicality. Her uncle would not fend off any unruly men who might be about, with his slight stature and aging appearance. As such, there was no one left to defend Catherine as she walked the few blocks home. There was no need. As if anyone was left to actually attack her.

Well…there were a few…but Catherine was so lost within herself she didn't notice them creeping up behind her…

* * *

Mud. Sweat. Dirt. Blood. Fire. Iron.

Lucan gripped the tiny carving in his hand. He had found it in one of his packs. The bear's head was still smooth; it's profile just as fearsome as when he had first bought it. His eyebrows had puckered in the center of his forehead when he had felt the small item in the bottom of his pack, but upon seeing what it was, he was instantly taken a-back. He had meant to give it to Catherine. Why, then, did he still have it?

He still frowned in thought, staring at the little wooden figure. It was staggering to think how long ago the midsummer festival was. Over one year…

No, that couldn't be right. It must be some time shorter than that…but…

Here it was, spring again. So then…well, it must have only just been last summer… But the more his mind wrapped around the time had had spent away from the wall, the more he began to awaken to the idea that he had been gone much longer than he thought. It was fuzzy, all of it. The marching, the skirmishes, camping, fitful sleeps, hardly eating…

_Over a year…No, that was impossible._

But it wasn't, not in the grand scheme of things. They had marched through winter, all the way to their camp.

And what a camp it was. Small groupings of dingy tents, pitiful fire pits, and sorrowful men. It was hardly as romantic as it all seemed to be in stories. But, of course, Lucan had never put much stock in stories, and so this was exactly as he expected it to be. In fact, it was easier. No one he knew had died from illness. There had been a few cases of some fever and Lucan had even helped dig the pit to lay the dead men to rest.

Perhaps the time had flown, he reasoned with himself, because of the monotony. The soldiers' thoughts were either on the bleak grey around them or the warm brown of home. Lucan's were of home, rather than of what 'adventure' he was on. Galen, Leon, Garrett, Thaddeus, and even Baldric, were all uncharacteristically silent. They had been excited, eager, even, to become soldiers. And now…

Someone suddenly threw a log on the dying fire, he looked up and the imaginings came to an end. Galen, the one who had stroked the fire, returned to his spot by Garrett, an apologetic look on his face. He was always sorry now, it seemed. There was harsh reality around him, and the stinging behind his eyes seemed to increase ten-fold as he once more adjusted to the situation. The sparks flew up in all directions, disappearing before Lucan could get a good look at them even.

Coming back to life, he quickly counted the months on his fingers and sighed. It was the company's second May away from home…

And nothing seemed much different from the first day.

He'd had almost no contact with Galahad, Gawain, or Bors. Certainly, Arthur had not made an appearance to his troops. It was a little disconcerting, to not be 'in the know'. Lucan had taken it for granted, being so close to the three men who were of vital importance to their King. Now, Lucan was among the other unknowing, as oblivious as the women who stayed back at the wall.

All he knew was to wait and do what he was told, and that's what he _would_ do.

"By Christ, I'm going to go mad…" he could hear Baldric muttering a few seats away from him, hunched over his own 'bed' (they were no more than horse blankets and whatever soft grasses the men could find around).

Garrett sighed, looking across the fire to Lucan. The two men's eyes met and Garrett gave a short nod of understanding to Lucan. He stood a moment later and went to comfort the man who looked no more than boy.

Madness seemed like it could come to fruition everywhere. Lucan's mind already wandered enough that he might be considered delusional. And at night, the dreams he had...

Well they battered away at his conscious as well as his mentality.

Dreams of everyone, Dagonet, his mother, and Catherine…

The ones with Catherine were the most disturbing. He had seen himself countless times return home to Catherine's bosom and Dagonet's welcome. His mother was not far in the background of all his dreams: a cloudy figure with bright eyes. He was welcomed back, and quickly taken to bed…

Even as he sat there thinking about his dreams, they seemed to come back to him and he tensed, willing himself to shut down, to not think of anything other than getting through the next few moments…and the moments after that. A few seconds at a time…

_Supple flesh, a tensed eyebrow, fingers grasping at hips and breasts…then only soft kisses and faces brushing. Whispers at his ear before kissing his neck._

Lucan sat up straight, looking around the darkness surrounding him. Hadn't it been light just a moment ago? The men around him were already at their blankets. Few were snoring, most were murmuring, and some stared wide-eyed at the blank sky – a rainless night among days of pouring skies.

Reaching into his tunic, he grasped the ring against his chest in his palm, squeezing it as he attempted to fall back asleep.

* * *

"HA!"

Lucan glanced around from where he cleaned his – Dagonet's – axe, grinning at the exchange between Garrett and Baldric. It was the first time, in a long time, that he'd heard any of his comrade's laughs.

"Well, Baldric…in a better mood than yesterday, I see." Thaddeus said, joining their small circle, which included all but Leon, who had disappeared sometime in the early morning. "Had a good hug?"

"Thaddeus, I'd hate to see you get punched and knocked unconscious before our first real battle, even." said Galen gently.

Thaddeus threw the small rabbit he was carrying by the fire, "Your turn, Garrett."

The younger man groaned, almost so quietly that Lucan could barely hear it.

"I'll do it." Lucan offered.

Garrett shook his head determinedly, "No, I can. I'm fine."

Lucan sat back, rubbing at his jaw, where a patch of scruff was now growing quite well. It wasn't as pronounced as Leon's or Thaddeus' now was. But none of the boys would stop giving Garrett a hard time for his lack of facial hair.

As Thaddeus and Baldric chattered and insulted each other, Lucan watched Garrett, who sat just next to him after beginning to cook the rabbit. H e attempted to right neat on a square of tanned parchment.

"Sarah?" he asked him gently.

Garrett looked up, surprised. He then promptly flushed. "Oh. Yes." He said, smiling once the shock of being asked had worn off.

Lucan tried not to smile, but it was a little hard, seeing the look of happiness and pride Garrett had. Pride in himself and pride in his woman. Where sometimes Garrett could be spineless when it came to the men, when it came to Sarah…that was something completely different.

"What?" Garrett inquired at the strange smile from Lucan.

Lucan gave a breathless laugh. "I want to write to Catherine…" he trailed off, looking a bit shocked at his own words. He hadn't meant to say that, or even think that.

Garrett said, "Why don't you?"

"I'm afraid I'll sound like a blithering idiot." Lucan confessed. "I don't know if it's necessarily…proper, to write her."

"Don't be an idiot." Garrett said suddenly, disapprovingly. The other man's eyebrows furrowed and he looked a bit…well, annoyed. Lucan was taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't need an excuse." Galen turned his words, sighing, turning to face Lucan straight on. "I've seen many men go on about how they wish they could write a woman. Either that or they deny the fact they want to. None of them here seem to realize that it could be the last time you get to say _anything_ to a woman, through a letter."

"She may hate me." Lucan offered.

"She may not." Garrett gave him a wide grin and went back to penning his own letter, muttering the words that Lucan was sure were full of adoration.

"You're sure Sarah loves you?"

Garrett paused again, and considered this. Then a grin spread through his lips. "I'm sure." He said, and sounded it. "When I get back, I'm going to marry her, we'll have at least five children, and I'll become fat, old, and happy."

"Sounds wonderful." Lucan agreed.

Still, he didn't pick up a quill.

* * *

As he had done many times the past few months, Lucan reached beneath his tunic, to the ring that lay heavy against his chest. He slipped his thumb into it, the only finger on which it would fit.

He glanced once more around the campfire, which was now illuminating the site, only to see Garrett considering him from across it. Lucan looked away from the boy and down at the bear he still had clutched in his hand and the ring that was slipping off his finger.

He went over the day. It wasn't strange for Leon to not return from an expedition, so the space next to him was empty. Baldric was already snoring, Thaddeus was gazing up at the starless, dark sky and Galen was sleeping soundly, book resting on his chest. There were no remnants of the rabbit left.

Then, it seemed as if someone turned on the sun so night had become noon – it was that shocking. There was quiet…and then… the sound of an arrow slicing through flesh. A soft grunt…and Garrett's body was lying on the ground.

Then the shouts began.

* * *

A/N: I know, it was god-awful long. Thanks for reading!


	19. Pain

**Chapter Eighteen: Pains**

**A/N: **I know...I suck. I'm super sorry. I hope you're all still here. Thanks so much for all your reviews and to all I couldn't respond to because they were unregistered users: YOU ROCK MY HEART! A bit graphic in this chapter. Not too bad, I don't think. Look for another quick update (which I can hopefully live up to).

* * *

It hadn't been cloudy yesterday, had it?

Yet, there was an unnatural fog – or so it seemed – blurring his vision. Perhaps it was just around his eyes alone. Then when he felt wetness drip from his eye to the ground, his vision cleared. Blinking at the clarity, he considered his hands beneath him. They were dirty, covered with mud and something infinitely darker. Red and crusty. They felt like lead. He could barely lift them from the ground when he tried and he wondered how he was still supporting himself as he knelt on hands and knees in the mud. His arms felt heavy too, like they could collapse at any moment. His muscles were trembling from the weight of his body. He frowned.

It hadn't rained yesterday, either. How could there be mud?

…_I should have written that letter._

Beneath him, he could see Dagonet's axe, resting in the mud just by his left hand. His fingers flexed, tips touching the handle before he completely extended his fingers and gripped it tight. It felt like the only thing solid near him. Everything else was spiraling in a dizzying arch

There were no more sounds, other than a few mewls, whimpers, and authoritative shouts. _Commanders,_ he realized, and felt a sigh of relief. _Finally, someone who knows more about war than a few home-grown young men_, he thought_._ Lucan placed himself among those unknowledgeable boys. He had hardly known where to look when…

Then, it was as if a blanket was lifted, and the numbness in his body wore off. He could feel his heart beat again and groaned as it caused pain to spread through his body. He could feel the gash that an arrow had left in his chest, though he could tell, without touching, that the arrow was not stuck into his flesh. That was not to say it didn't hurt more than anything he had ever felt. There was warm liquid on his temple, and he knew he must have been struck on the head. He didn't know whether to fall to the ground beneath him, or stand. He didn't know if he _could_ stand, if that was a choice. So, he flexed his arms, feeling them shake, and attempted to stand.

* * *

"Any change?"

"No. She has stirred only a little, but nothing more. Have they found the other?"

"Long gone I think."

"Her Aunt and Uncle?"

"They haven't room for her, not like this. Arianna said she'll be helping out tomorrow and from then on -"

"Good, you shouldn't have to do all this on your own, she's not yours for heaven sakes. And with all those little ones-"

"-Yes...but...well, she's a friend. Or at least a friend of a friend so I won't leave her alone."

There was a shuffling of footsteps as Vanora made her way from one room to the next, further away from the bed side.

"I heard she killed one of them…"

"Two, I heard."

"Nay, you both are wrong. She clawed them all, but none died."

"Bloody twit couldn't have the sense -"

"Oi, wenches!" the strong, deep voice of Vanora growled, "How's 'bout you go back to your work and leave me some quiet!"

The girls scattered, crossing their arms and staggering away. They glared over their shoulders but Vanora was quickly forgotten at the prospect of the men, all elderly, in front of them. Coin had been scarce the last year, but they managed to survive on ailing widowers and adulterous husbands. The little money that could be spared, it seemed, went to drinking and whoring. This wasn't much of a change, Vanora knew, but it was a slightly different crowd she saw in the tavern as of late.

"Filth." Vanora murmured to herself, her voice clearer as she wandered back into the room. She looked down at the unconscious girl laying in the bed and sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. She was exhausted and fraying at the edges. She didn't have the time she used to, to wrap her hair in ties to curl it before bed or to even put on a clean dress lately. She swiped at a wispy grouping of hair that was tickling her and growled when it wouldn't stay put. For the first time, almost ever, tears filled her eyes and she leaned against the doorway, still looking at Catherine but her eyes far away.

"Bors..." she murmured, hugging her arm around her middle. It was the first time, in a long time, she hadn't had a life growing within her. It felt strange. Easier, but empty. That feeling of emptiness, whether over Bors' absence or the lack of a child, never lasted long. It only took a scream and an argument or the tug on her skirts to remind her that Bors was right in front of her and her body was thanking her.

* * *

The pulse of her heartbeat was like the blacksmiths hammer. Relentlessly it made her wince in pain. She couldn't control it, either, couldn't fight it. Her entire body ran with veins, and with every pump she could feel everything, from each pinprick of pain to the gashes of agony along her head and torso. With each breath, her lungs and ribs crackled, leaving her gasping and hurting all the more. She could feel the tickle of her eyelashes on her cheeks. It was the only pleasant sensation she could feel.

Time seemed remote as if she couldn't place how long she had been lying here, or how long she had been asleep. All she could see was black and small flashes of memories. She had been walking home. Her eyes flickered again. She wanted to open them; they were the only thing that she could move without a stab of discomfort. She tried her hand, her legs, but they felt stiff and unresponsive. Was she paralyzed? No, she was in too much pain for paralysis.

"Catherine?"

Her name seemed far away and echoing. It seemed to join company with her pulse in beating her head. She tried to groan, but it came out as a breathy sigh. She was unable to express the agony she was experiencing. She wanted it over, done, or at least to go back into the darkness that she had been in moments ago.

"Catherine, are you awake? I'm sorry, lass."

Well, at least the painful voice was sympathetic. She wished that they would just let her be, though. It hurt too much...

"You're at the tavern."

Catherine could care less where she was. She wanted to know what had befallen her this time. Had she tripped going into the bakery and fallen into the fire? It felt as though she might have. She moved her head slightly. Her sore body protested the movement and she gasped in pain, begetting more pain in her torso. He experimentally moved her legs, and there was a burning ache all the way up into her thighs. She winced, trying to relax again. Her eyes opened suddenly, widening. Then...what...The thoughts of what could have happened crashed through her mind, wave upon wave of disgusting, revolting things. Her eyes sought the voice, Vanora's voice. But she could hardly see. Not that it was overly bright. It was dark in the tiny room. The room that Vanora most usually put Bors after a night of debauchery when she was unable to get him up the stairs. Catherine could see flashes. Probably her face was bruised, she thought.

"Wh-wh..." she tried to say, each stutter causing her lungs to burn.

All Vanora could wonder is why the Gods had placed this burden for her to carry. Telling Catherine. She closed her eyes tight, holding the young woman's hand in the dark room.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

"You there!" a deep voice yelled.

Lucan turned, or at least tried. He could barely move his neck in either direction so he hobbled to face the direction of the voice. He put a little weight on his tender leg. It didn't help that the world was still spinning and he could barely make out the figure in front of him for all the dizziness and blur.

"What do you think you're doing, sit down!"

It was Galahad. Lucan recognized the voice the closer it got. Even without seeing clearly, Lucan could tell he was at the edge of sanity. Galahad's voice was strained and weary all the while trying to sound like he knew just what he was doing. It didn't fool Lucan.

"I'm...fine..." Lucan breathed, groaning at the exertion.

"Yes, yes. Sure." Galahad agreed, hardly listening to what the whelp was saying. The older man was assessing the damages, looking over the ruined camp.

Lucan and Galahad seemed to be one of the only ones standing. There were others, nearby, lurking. Most were looking about as if they were somewhere away. Somewhere completely different. Lucan knelt down, checking breath of one of the young men. There was an arrow in his chest. He though, just momentarily, about taking it out. It wasn't worth it, though, he realized. The arrow had gone straight through and his blood flooded the already saturated ground. He was long gone.

"Well, if you're idiotic enough to be moving, check the others." Galahad ordered, watching Lucan to see if he would collapse. It was only a matter of time. Lucan held the axe in his hand like it was as heavy as a man, leaning heavily to one side to keep himself balanced.

Lucan's eyes tried to focus on Galahad but once he saw who he was kneeling over, he felt stomach give heave. He turned, emptying what little was left on the ground by the cold remnants of where the fire once burned.

Garrett.

Lucan groaned, gasping for air. But he wouldn't let go of the axe, gripping on to it as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. He would topple without it. He closed his eyes but then opened them. The muck beneath him was far better than the bloody, glassy eyes and the pale, wet skin behind him. He imagined it cold. But not like marble. Like a dead fish. He felt his stomach lurch again, but there was nothing left. He gagged again and again, whimpering pitifully. He felt his eyes water and scratched at them; unwilling.

"Lucan!" a hoarse voice called.

Lucan looked up, squinting to see who it was. He wiped at his lip, seeing blood there. He had bitten it accidentally.

"Leon." he acknowledged, his voice weaker than he intended.

Leon jumped from his horse and took in the massacre around as he helped Lucan to his feet. He was blank, eyes wide and blinking at the sight around him. "Gods..." he whispered, unsure of what to do. Neither of them truly knew.

"Check them!" Galahad answered, sitting up and moving to another body, finding it already cold.

Leon didn't hesitate, quickly down on his knees, checking for any signs of life in their comrades. Lucan could not bring himself to glance back in Garrett's direction, for fear of the same reaction. He already felt as if his insides were tearing apart. Instead, he leaned down and checked another. Dead.

Then, he heard footsteps hobble up behind him. Instinctually, he turned with his axe. A new flood of adrenaline lessened the pain. But it wasn't necessary and Lucan relaxed upon seeing Bors hobble up.

"Lucan!" he wheezed, kneeling beside him. "Thought you were dead, boy."

"Have you seen any others?" Lucan asked, looking over Baldric. Other than a few scratches the bald man looked bloody but fine.

"I found Thaddeus, already at the healers cart. He wasn't hurt too badly. He said he ended up being pushed back, fighting. He ended up a few camps down. Bit disoriented. As am I."

"Galen?" Lucan inquired.

"Here." a weak voice called..

"And where in hell have you been!?" Baldric rumbled, standing up and going to hold Galen up before he could fall.

"S-sorry." Galen groaned, "Got a bit lost. Couldn't find my way back."

"We need to get you both to the healers." Leon said, coming up and looking from Lucan to Galen, "Otherwise you might be joining Garrett."

Lucan's head snapped up. He had always respected Leon, but at that moment he felt the overwhelming urge to punch him. It was rage, he realized, that made him curl his fist. Irrational but it felt good. It felt better than being where he was. It was too early, much too early, to be speaking like that. But upon looking further, Lucan saw the scout's eyes downcast and flickering over to their friend where he still lay in the mud. His fist relaxed. Leon was mourning, just like he was. His voice had been weary and forlorn, not amused.

"We'll have to move him." Lucan murmured.

"No time." Galahad interjected, standing in front of the four men, "Arthur's orders are to move to a new location. We were lucky this time, another wave and we would have been decimated."

"Aren't we?" Galen's weak and confused voice asked.

"No." Galahad murmured.

"We're not going home?" Lucan asked, disbelieving.

Galahad gave him a hard look.

"No," he murmured, "We're staying."

* * *

Catherine turned, frowning. This time, she was sure she had heard scuffling. It was muted due to the compacted earth on the road, but there was definitely another soul out with her. She wondered, briefly, if it was a few of Vanora's brood skittering up behind her. But that was a lie her mind told her to keep the panic away. It was far too late for anyone of respect to be out and about. She cursed herself inwardly for being so distracted. She steadied her breaths, unwilling to believe that there was anyone out that would deliberately attack her. Even so, her steps picked up. She clutched her pack tight around her. She knew, though, if it was between her and the money she would gladly hand over anything she had and run.

But then men that were sneaking through the shadows were not interested in trinkets or coin. Not many of their state of mind were. They saw an opportunity. A lone girl wandering the streets, finding her way home. She was easily enough over powered, pushed to the ground. She would scream and they would cover her mouth or kick her hard enough to stop her screaming before her face would be kicked next. To keep her from remembering their faces. Even though it was too dark to tell if they were young, old, ugly or had a deceivingly charming face.

The night air, balmy and sticky, would hit her thighs. Her skirt would rip, so easy. It was worn and old; practical. This would hurt more than by the gnarled tree, which had been sweet, unsure, and hasty. This would hurt ten thousand more times than that. She couldn't comprehend it.

Catherine would give anything for it to have been Eleven coming up behind her to scare her. They would laugh and Catherine would walk her home. Perhaps she would stay overnight at the Tavern, because it was so late.

But it was much too late. And while she was half-unconscious she would thank God that she couldn't feel anything. She was numb. She could only feel the rocking, which made her stomach curl in on itself. And she knew she turned away, angering the men by vomiting on the ground.

It was over. But it had seemed like an eternity. She turned on her side...

She would awaken later, in pain and confusion to Vanora sitting at her beside, murmuring to comfort her. In her mind, she already knew. She wasn't angry, wasn't disgusted with herself. She wasn't suicidal.

She could see Vanora waiting for the insanity to claim her. No, she was simply quiet for a long time. Ariana reported that she was praying daily and that she had cried more than once. All normal, Vanora rationalized. What wasn't normal was the difference that both of her caretakers could see. She was different, but not in a broken way. In a strangely stronger way. Vanora thought it strange, but thanked the Gods for bringing Catherine through.

* * *


End file.
